Artistic Expressions
by nedcans
Summary: Matt likes a lot of things. Matt likes hockey. Matt likes pot. Matt likes art. But Matt loves Tim. (Student/Teacher Relationship!AU, NedCan)
1. Chapter 1

(**A/N:** I have no business starting a new fan fiction, but this plot has been nagging at me for weeks now. Warning, I do use a pretty offensive word, in a non-offensive way, purely because that's what it's called in the stoner community. You'll know it when you see it.)

It was safe to say that Matt was Tim's favorite student. Tim had loved him since he started his Art IV class, and once he started Tim's Political Arts class after the first semester, he was sure that the Dutchman didn't have anyone he liked more than Matthew Williams.

Considering that, Matt was very confused when Tim had given him detention one Friday afternoon. He didn't even give Matt a reason, he just caught Matt at the end of his 6th period Art IV class and told him he was going to have to stay after school with him. Matt didn't protest; he was always a quiet one, and arguing with his teacher was a big no-no. Even if it was Tim. He just went on to his last period English class, wondering what it was he had done to earn a detention.

After English, Matt told his twin brother Alfred to wait on him and quickly walked to the Art Wing, and made his way into Tim's room. "Matt." Tim said. "Mr. Van Der Heide." Matt nodded. He usually would have called his teacher Tim, but he didn't really want to risk getting in trouble for being informal. "What the hell? Just 'cause I asked you to stay back doesn't mean you gotta treat me so proper." Tim questioned Matt, and he nodded meekly back. "Sorry, Tim."

Tim smiled. "Okay, Matt. Do you know why I asked you to stay back with me today?" Matt shook his head. "It's because of some of the stuff you've been drawing in Political Arts."

Shit. He was talking about the weed.

Tim had recently assigned his Political Arts class to draw a picture depicting a local current event that affected them personally, and Matt had drawn about the DEA cracking down on the importation of marijuana from Canada, specifically from British Columbia, into his home state of Oregon. He let out a little sigh of relief. At least now he knew he wasn't in that much trouble. Now that he knew that, he felt he could be a bit more open with Tim.

"I understand why you'd be upset about my drawing, but Leon Wang drew lesbian sex to symbolize gay marriage, so I think I could have done a lot worse." Matt said matter-of-factly, and Tim laughed. "Leon's fucking hilarious. But I'm not getting you in trouble. I just wanted to have a talk with you." Matt nodded and sat on a table. Tim closed the door and walked back to Matt.

"So, you're personally affected by the recent scarcity of pot coming from British Columbia?" Tim asked, giving him a knowing look. Matt gave a nervous laugh and looked away. "Well, about that…" He started. "Come on, Matt. You can't hide being a pothead from me. I'm Dutch, remember?" Tim said. Matt sighed and nodded. "And while I can't support my students doing any sort of illegal activity…" Tim lowered his voice and leaned closer to Matt. "But I do know of a person who's selling some home grown BC Bud if you're interested."

Matt's eyes lit up. "Who is it?" Matt asked, not registering that he was discussing where to buy pot with his art teacher. "I can't give that away just yet. Too many ears around here. But I can give you an address." Tim said, and wrote down an address. 321 Maple Drive. Matt quickly committed the address to memory and looked up at Tim. "If you are going to buy off of him, not that I'm encouraging you to do such immoral things, he is open for business starting at 6 PM at that address. Should I tell him to be expecting a customer?" Tim asked. Matt nodded. "I'll… I'll be there, Tim." He said breathily. Tim grinned. "Great. I can promise you that this is excellent quality stuff. You didn't hear about him from me, though. Understand, Matt?" He told Matt sternly and Matt nodded with vigor.

"Also, I'd appreciate it if you made your art a little more subtle. Leon's gonna get a talk about this too. If someone saw that my students were painting legalize posters and lesbians, I'd be in a lot of trouble. You know how fucking conservative these principles are, I'm surprised I even got this class okayed." Tim laughed. "Yeah, yeah. I'll tone it down." Matt smiled. "See, this is why you're my favorite, Matt. Now you can go." Tim said and Matt nodded. Matt turned to leave, and asked for a final time, "6 PM?" before he got to the door. Tim, who was back to grading at his desk, nodded. Matt grinned and went to meet Alfred at his car.

"Dude, I've had the car running! What took you so damn long?" Al asked. "I told you in English, Alfred. I had to stay back with Tim. He wanted to talk to me." Matt answered, kind of pissed that Al forgot. "Oh, yeah. What did he want?" Al asked, putting his car into gear and making his way out of the parking lot. "He said I shouldn't draw so openly about pot in case a principal sees." Matt said. "Oh, I gotcha. Isn't Tim the dude like, every girl is creaming their pants over?" Al questioned. "I guess? I mean I wouldn't know." Matt replied awkwardly. His brother wasn't the best to talk about these kinds of things with.

"He looks like a faggot to me." Al replied idly. Matt cringed, not wanting to start this right now. "You don't know that for sure, Al. He could have had some bangin' chick back in Holland." Matt tried to divert his brother, but he had failed. "Nah. He doesn't even look like a manly gay. He looks like the one that would take it up the ass." Al laughed, and Matt sighed.

Matt really did love his brother, but it was difficult sometimes, what with his homophobic tendencies. The fact that Matt was in the closet made things a lot more complicated. He lived in a very conservative town, meaning no one knew that about Matt. Half the people in the town were just as bad as Al, and the other half were even worse. Matt and Al's dad, Arthur, was a little better than the rest of the town, but Matt doubted if he ever told his father he liked guys, he'd be disowned.

Alfred must have gotten upset about Matt's lack of laughter at his 'oh so funny joke,' and smacked Matt on the arm. "Come on, don't tell me you support that faggot." He groaned. "He's my art teacher, Alfred. Jeez. He's a good dude." Matt replied, getting a little pissed off. He was happy they were almost home. He wanted to take a shower and do a little work on his Art IV project before he left at 6 to go meet the dude Tim was talking about. Al sat in silence for the rest of the ride home, and Matt was thankful for it.

Al pulled into the driveway, and the twins weren't shocked to see that their dad was gone. He had been home for the past 3 days or so, but they hadn't expected him to stay home much longer than that. Matt was pretty sure the last time he had been home for over a week was the week Matt and Al were born. He always claimed he was on a business trip or got caught up in work, but as they got older, they understood where he was. The next town over was an Indian reservation, and it was famous for illicit businesses such as brothels and casinos.

It wasn't uncommon for Arthur to book a hotel for a few weeks, and go on a bender, blowing thousands of dollars in the span of a fortnight. Luckily, Arthur made a lot of money (he legitimately did work a lot,) and their mother, who lived in France, paid a lot of child support. Matt and Al had always lived comfortably, even with their father's problem. It was something they learned to accept.

Truth be told, the twins liked having the house to themselves for weeks at a time. Matt could get away with smoking in the house whenever he wanted to, and Al had brought every girl in their grade home at least once. Even when Arthur was home, and he found a discarded roach, or condom wrapper, or, in one case, Matt's entire stash box, he tended not to care. He would make a fuss about it for a few hours, and then fall asleep on the couch with a beer. Matt loved him, but he was a terrible father.

Before Matt knew it, 6 PM had rolled around. He grabbed his red hoodie, and went to tell Alfred that he was going. "Where?" Al asked him. "Just out." Matt replied, hoping he wouldn't have to go into detail with him. Al knew Matt was a stoner, but Matt really didn't like discussing his smoking habits with his family. "You can smoke in the house, Matt. I really don't care. You don't have to go out in the cold to get high." Al said, flipping on the TV. "I'm going to a friend's house to do it, if you must know." Matt said. He never said the 's' word around Al.

Matt jumped slightly as Al started laughing loudly. "Oh, that's a good one Matt. You and I both know the only friend you have is that albino German kid you met online and Skype with all the time." Al laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes, and Matt flipped him off. "Yeah, shut the fuck up. And don't talk shit about Gil!" Matt exclaimed, and left before Al could say anything else. He may have been speaking the truth, but it hurt either way.

He was halfway to Maple Drive when he started questioning why he was walking across town in February for pot. Sure, Matt was a seasoned smoker, and he really appreciated having his favorite strain, but he didn't realize how long he'd have to walk to get it. It was then that he wished he would gotten his license with his brother, or at least asked Al for a ride. Or he even could have called up Mathias (the college dropout from Denmark who had been living illegally in the United States with his Norwegian, on-again off-again boyfriend for nearly 2 years) to sell him some of the reggie he had been smoking. At least Mathias would drive to his house.

He let out a cheer when he saw a street sign telling him that he had finally reached Maple Drive. He started searching for 231, and quickly found it; an old, white, 2-story house with its porch light on. Matt grinned and approached it, checking the note in his pocket to make sure he had picked the right house. For a moment he hesitated, thinking Tim could have set him up to get arrested or something. He quickly dismissed that thought. He didn't think Tim would do that to his favorite student, but came up with a valid reason for knocking on random doors in case it was. (He would play it off as he was asking for donations.)

He could have gone into cardiac arrest when he knocked on the door, and Tim answered it. Matt just kind of stared at his teacher, mouth open and eyes wide, for a few seconds before Tim laughed. "Come inside, Matt." He gestured for Matt to come in, and he did. Tim set Matt up at his kitchen table, and came in with a large box. "I've got pretty much anything you could want to buy, honestly. A lot of strains from the Netherlands, of course, but I do have a selection of stuff from BC. I'll let you sample any strain you want."

Matt seemed to have shaken out of his trance, and looked around Tim's kitchen. "Tim, you're a drug dealer?" He asked incredulously. "Mhmm," Tim hummed, his back turned to Matt as he placed his box on the kitchen counter and sorted through it. A vase of fresh tulips caught Matt's eye, and he thought back to what Al was saying earlier. Maybe Tim was a little bit gay.

"Okay, these are the best that I have. There is Dutch Treat, my personal favorite. This is a hybrid called Chernobyl, and here's my best BC Bud. I have a few strains of reggie if you want that, but this is all my kush." Tim said, looking at the pot he had laid out on the table like it was his child. Matt eyed the BC Bud. It looked a hell of a lot better than the kind Mathias sold him. "Do you want a sample? It can be stressful buying a new strain." Tim asked, and Matt nodded. "Let me try that Dutch Treat."

Tim smirked. "I must warn you, once you smoke this, there's no going back. It'll be all you can smoke from here on out." Matt shrugged. "Well, looks like I have a regular then," Tim laughed and handed Matt a small joint and a lighter. Matt lit it quickly, wanting to get kush smoke in his lungs for the first time in what felt like forever. He sucked in a mouthful of smoke, and savored the sweet taste and breathed in. He held the smoke in and felt the rush of the high hit him almost immediately.

He exhaled, his eyes wide. Tim looked at him slyly and watched as he finished the whole joint and Matt asked how much a gram would cost him. "30. I don't know your tolerance, but I've been smoking since I was 18 and I can tell you that a gram of this stuff will get you higher than you've ever been. It's potent." Tim replied, and Matt wordlessly laid down a 50. Tim laughed. "If you smoke a gram and a half of my stuff, I promise you, you'll be over the moon."

"I don't even care. I just need more of it." Matt said, his eyes starting to turn red. Tim took the 50 and carefully measured out a gram and 2/3 for Matt, putting it in a baggy for him. Matt was starting to revel in his high. "Tim… Tim I don't think I can walk home like this." He said softly, causing Tim to laugh. "Well stay here and burn one with me." He said. He was joking, but Matt took him up on the offer. "Please tell me you've got a bong," Matt asked, and Tim pulled one out of his box. "This is my box of wonders, Matt. I've got anything you need in here."

Matt took the bong and packed it tightly from the baggy Tim had given him. Tim pulled a blunt out of his box and lit it, sucking in a large amount of smoke. Matt took a big hit from the bong, and coughed a bit. "Oh, I am so glad I bought this instead of that BC Bud." He sighed, and Tim, who was settling into his own high, gave a noise of approval. "The Bud is good, but I brought these seeds over from Amsterdam. Our weed will always be better than anything North America can throw at you." He said, taking another large hit.

Matt had finished off two bowlfuls, and was starting on his third when his high really hit. He had a million thoughts jumbling together in his head, thousands of profound ideas, and he had opened his mouth to tell Tim that he had figured out how they were going to cure world hunger, but all he could say was, "I'm hungry." Tim giggled a bit (and then Matt giggled too, because Tim, his stoic art teacher, was _giggling_) and pointed at the fridge. Matt opened it up and found a lot of unappealing, probably-Dutch stuff, and made a face. "This shit sucks." He said and slammed the door, causing something decorative at the top to fall over. He couldn't really tell what it was, he was too chink-eyed at this point to see that far away.

So he rooted around in Tim's cabinets until he found what he knew had to be in there. No self-respecting stoner could go without it. He found what he was looking for in the left-hand cabinet above the sink. He stared at the red bag, in all of its artificially cheesy, delicious glory. The mother of all stoner foods: Doritos. He climbed on the counter to grab them, nearly falling to his death a few times, but Matt didn't care. He finally had his prize. He went back to his spot at Tim's table and got a nice rhythm going. He'd eat a chip, then take a hit. Chip, hit. It was like an assembly line. (Except for the few times he tried to take a hit off a Dorito or took a bite of the bong. He won some, and lost some.)

By the time he had smoked the extra 2/3 he had in the bag, Matt was gone. That wasn't any sort of exaggeration; Tim had gone to clean the bong with some rubbing alcohol and when he came back, Matt was literally gone. It didn't take long to find him, though. He was plopped on Tim's couch, laughing at paid programming. "Jesus fucking Christ, Tim. This is so fucking stupid! A blanket with sleeves… Why not just wear a hoodie? Or a robe? They look like they're in a cult. Tim, let's get some." Matt yelled to the Dutchman.

"I totally have one upstairs!" Tim yelled back from the kitchen, and ran upstairs, still puffing on his blunt. He came back down a few minutes later in a Dutch flag themed Snuggie. "My mom got me this shit before I came to America," he laughed, and Matt laughed too. He tried to eat another Dorito, and ended up choking slightly on it. "Don't eat and laugh, you dumbass." Tim reprimanded, and Matt's laughter started to die down. It promptly came back to life, because, holy shit. Matt just got stoned with his art teacher, and now he was yelling at him for getting choked while eating and laughing, and all of this was happening while Tim was wearing a fucking _Snuggie with a Dutch flag printed on it._

He finally managed to get his laughter down to a few giggles, and Tim sat beside him on the couch (still wearing his Snuggie.) They watched infomercials for a while, while they passed the blunt back and forth between each other. Matt had wanted to come down, but he definitely wasn't going to say no to more of Tim's weed. The blunt was tightly packed, and thick, and it lasted a long time. By the time the two had finished it off, they were both higher than kites.

"Tim… Tim, I don't think I've ever even dreamed about being this high." Matt said, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. The molding made really neat shapes. "Damn, I've been way higher than this before. You've never been on a bender in Amsterdam before." Tim replied, leaning his head back to do the same. "Tim, I'm so fucking hungry. But I can't get up. Tim. If I get up I'll… The floor is lava, Tim." Matt said, suddenly jumping back and pulling his feet to his chest. Tim laughed and flipped off the TV. "Well luckily my bedroom is lava-proof."


	2. Chapter 2

"What," Matt asked, looking over at Tim. "You're 18, aren't you Matt?" Tim asked. "Yeah," Matt replied, lolling his head back again. It was just too heavy to keep up. "Do you wanna fuck?" Tim asked, with as much casualness as someone would ask how the weather was. "Yes." Matt certainly wasn't going to say anything else. Every girl had the hots for Tim, and every awkwardly closeted boy did too. His current state of mind wasn't helping in his decision-making, and he didn't know if he would regret it later, but he was definitely not regretting it now.

Quick as a flash, Tim was carrying Matt upstairs, helping him avoid the "lava." He (somewhat unceremoniously) dropped Matt onto his bed, and fell down beside him. He placed an experimental kiss to Matt's lips, and Matt kissed him back. Tim's tongue quickly darted out and felt Matt's upper lip, and Matt eagerly gave him entrance. Matt's hand found itself tangled in Tim's gelled hair, strands of it falling in the Dutchman's face. He didn't care, the only thing he had on his mind right now was Matt.

Tim's hand massaged Matt's chest, and growled in displeasure when he found Matt still had his hoodie on. He broke the kiss for a moment to pull it off, then quickly leaned back down to pull him into another. He found a hard nipple through Matt's thin shirt, rubbing it lazily. Matt let out a moan into Tim's mouth, and he broke the kiss to suck at Matt's neck. He left large marks, visible to anyone who looked at Matt. Matt writhed a bit under Tim's mouth, and he pulled away again to pull off Matt's shirt.

He kissed at Matt's chest, massaging at his nipples and rubbing his legs against Matt's quickly-hardening bulge. Matt grinned and sighed. "Mmm, Tim, your shirt is soft," he moaned, before bolting up so quickly Tim jumped back. "I'll stop if you want-" Tim started, but was cut off by Matt's hysterical laughter. It took a minute for him to calm down enough to tell Tim what was wrong. "You're still wearing that fucking Snuggie!" Matt cackled, and Tim looked down. Sure enough, he was, and he started laughing along with Matt. By the time they had both calmed down, Matt had tears in his heavily-lidded eyes.

"I laughed so hard I fucking lost my boner," Tim laughed, and pulled off the Snuggie, discarding it somewhere with Matt's clothes. "Yeah, me too." Matt giggled. "But I'm sure we can fix that," he purred, and the sound went straight to Tim's cock. He pulled off his own shirt and started to kiss at Matt's neck again, and kissed down his chest.

He pulled off Matt's jeans and boxers in one fluid motion, not even bothering with buttons. He stroked at Matt's cock, which was rapidly hardening after the Snuggie situation. Tim ran his tongue over the tip, and Matt let out a breathy groan. Encouraged, Tim took the head into his mouth and sucked, causing Matt to let out a wanton moan. Tim rubbed at his own hardening cock through his pants and started sucking Matt off, taking him down his throat until his nose was buried in the curls at the base. Matthew had stopped caring about keeping Tim's hair styled, and gripped his fingers in it. "Mmm… 'm close, Tim." Matt breathed out, and Tim pulled away.

Matt whined, and Tim laughed. "I'll be right back. Don't touch yourself okay?" Tim asked, and was out his bedroom door. Matt let out a groan as his dick throbbed uncomfortably between his legs, but didn't touch himself. Tim had been gone a few minutes, and Matt's arousal was getting painful, and he was starting to come down slightly. He really didn't like it. He was debating jerking himself off and going home, but, finally, Tim was back with a bag in his hand and a blunt between his lips.

"That ten minutes was _agonizing,_ Tim," Matt half- moaned, and Tim started pulling his pants off as he walked back to the bed. "Yeah, I was out of condoms and lube. Had to run down to the gas station." He said, plopping back beside Matthew and handing him the blunt. Matt took a few hits to bring him back up, and moved to ash it, when he was reminded of the great need he felt between his legs. "Okay, let's finish this." Matt said, and Tim nodded, pulling a small bottle of lube out of the bag, and poured a liberal amount on his fingers.

Tim laughed a bit as he warmed it up. "I didn't even ask, do you want to top or bottom?" he asked, and Matt replied with a quick "Bottom," just wanting Tim to hurry up and fuck him. Tim gave Matt a few jerks with his now-lubed hand and teased his entrance. Matt shuddered, and Tim pressed in slightly. Matt was relaxed, but even then he was tight. "Tell me, Matt, have you ever done this?" Tim asked, and Matt hummed a "Mhmmm," feeling the high of both the pot, and the finger brushing his prostate hit him.

Tim pushed in another finger and scissored them, making Matt groan loudly. He was still tight. "Come on, Matt, you're gonna have to relax if you want me to fit." Tim said, and Matt forced himself to relax, and Tim felt him loosen. "Are you ready?" Tim asked, and Matt nodded. "Great," Tim whispered as he rolled on a condom, and propped himself above Matt. "Tell me if you want me to stop," Tim said, and slowly positioned himself at Matt's entrance. He pushed in lightly, and heard Matt groan. He slowly pushed further, until he was buried in Matt's tight ass.

"Just tell me when you're ready for me to move, okay?" Tim asked, and Matt nodded. A minute or so later, Matt let out a sigh. "I'm ready." Tim nodded and started thrusting slowly, and, oh, he knew exactly what he was doing. He hit Matt's prostate with every thrust, and Matt was already starting to come undone. "Oh, god, Tim. I'm sorry- I'm not gonna last long." He moaned wantonly. "Mmm, Dutch Treat'll do that to you. It just makes you feel everything so much more intensely," Tim whispered against Matt's neck, placing kisses to it as he tried to slow his thrusts and make them both last longer.

A particularly hard thrust against his prostate had Matt screaming Tim's name, and Tim's thrusts started growing erratic. Matt bucked up against him, meeting his thrusts, and with a final scream, came all over his and Tim's chests. "God that's hot," Tim breathed, looking down at the cum covering his chest, and came inside of Matt with a grunt.

He collapsed on top of Matthew for a while and caught his breath, and Matt snaked arms around his bare hips. "Yeah, that was great," Matt panted, and Tim nodded against his chest, unable to find any words. Once the high of his orgasm was over, Tim pulled out and rolled his condom off. He tied it, and threw it towards the trash. He rolled over beside Matt and sighed. "I really hope that got in the trash. Here, let's finish off that blunt." Tim said, and Matt grabbed the blunt and lit it, feeling the high he was coming down from raise back up. He and Tim passed it until it burned to the roach, and they let out a collective sigh.

"Man, I am so fired," Tim said, ashing the roach. "And I don't even give a fuck. That was great." Matt giggled. "We're definitely going to regret this if we ever let ourselves come down," he said, wanting nothing more than to just spend the rest of his days stoned out of his mind, lying in Tim's bed. "Mmm, well we have to let ourselves come down, there's school tomorrow," Tim said and snuggled against Matt. "Damn, that sucks," Matt replied idly, feeling his eyes droop. He had smoked way too much, now he was sleepy. "Mmmm," was all Tim replied, and Matt was asleep before he could think of anything else to say.


	3. Chapter 3

Matt woke up to his phone ringing loudly the next day. He groaned and reached over to his nightstand to grab it only to realize it wasn't there. In fact, his whole nightstand wasn't there. It took him a second to scrutinize the room he was in, the bedsheets he was tangled in, and the man sleeping beside him before he realized where he was, and everything he had done the night before. "Shit," Matthew drew out, and jumped out of bed to grab his phone, trying not to wake Tim.

He fell, quite ungracefully, to the floor, still tangled in the bedsheets. The loud _thump_ along with the ringing of his phone woke Tim up, who groaned and sat up, his hair sticking out in several directions. "Jesus fucking Christ, what time is it?" he mumbled, and looked to his clock. "Alarm's not supposed to go off for 20 minutes, what the hell?" he was quiet for a bit, then hummed. "Matt, are you still here?" he asked. "Uh, yeah." Matt replied from the floor. Tim groaned. "Shit, yeah. Okay. Answer your phone, and for the love of god, don't let on that you're with your teacher."

Matt got up from the ground and walked over to his discarded pants, somewhat aware of the fact that he was still naked, and that his chest was covered in cum. "Ugh," he groaned. He felt sore and dirty. He reached his pants and pulled out his phone, which was still ringing. He checked the caller id- it was Alfred. He sighed and hit answer. "Where the hell are you, man?" Al interrogated. "I crashed at my friend's house." Matt answered, hoping he wouldn't press on _who_ exactly Matt stayed with. "Who was it?" Damn it. Matt looked at Tim. "Mathias. That Dane I hang out with sometimes." Matt lied after a moment of hesitation. "Mhm. How high were you last night?" Al asked. "I didn't get high, Al." Matt knew Al would see right through it, but it was worth a shot. "You sent me like three texts about buying Snuggies, Matt." Oh, yeah. He had.

"Well, you better get your ass home soon if you want a ride to school." Al said when Matt was silent. "I, uh, don't think I'm gonna make it home in time. Just go on without me. I'll get a ride with Mathias. See you at school," Matt said and hung up. "My brother," Matt explained. He heard Tim sigh. "Okay, Matt. We need to talk." He said, and Matt nodded. "Let's take a shower first though." Matt nodded again and the two made their way into Tim's adjoined bathroom.

"Water sucks here, mind if we share the shower?" Tim asked. "No, it's fine." The two stepped into Tim's shower, and Tim turned the knob and let the water warm. Matt let the hot water run over his body. He washed the dried cum off his chest and washed his hair with Tim's fruity smelling shampoo. After he had done that, he leaned against the wall and started to think while he let Tim use the stream of water. 'I don't regret a thing,' was the first thought that entered his head, and it was true. He got pretty high, and he got laid for the first time since sophomore year. No, he didn't regret a thing. He'd do the exact same thing if Tim ever offered it to him again; in fact he hoped Tim would offer it again. It wasn't like he had been drunk last night. His decision making skills were a little off, but he was fully aware of what he was doing. He _wanted_ it. And Tim did too. Matt was 18. Nothing he did was wrong.

The two were silent for the most part, and Matt didn't know if that was good or bad. He had 2nd period with Tim, and knew he wasn't much of a morning person, so he hoped that his silence could be explained by that. It was still awkward. Matt was waiting for the inevitable, 'I sure had fun last night but gee, you're gonna have to run now, because what we did was probably illegal and I'm not risking my job and residence for you,' speech, but Tim didn't give it, even when he stepped out of the shower.

"I guess you still like what you see?" Tim asked teasingly. Matt hadn't realized he had been staring at Tim since he had gotten out of the shower. Matt brought up a bit of courage and replied with, "Yeah, I do," as he got out of the shower. Tim smirked, and grabbed two towels, handing one to Matt.

Matt thought back to what Alfred had said yesterday when Tim started to style and blowdry his hair. He hadn't really noticed it before, but Tim really did act pretty gay. At least Al was wrong about one thing: Tim definitely wasn't a bottom bitch. The soreness in his ass proved that. Matt smiled and went to brush his hair with one of Tim's brushes, and they finished in relative silence. Once Tim pulled on some clothes, and Matt had pulled on his from yesterday, Tim sighed. "Okay, Matt, time to talk."

Matt nodded and they walked down to the kitchen where they had started their adventure last night. Tim got one of those probably-Dutch foods from last night out of his fridge and a pipe from his Box of Wonders. Matt gave him a look, and Tim rolled his eyes. "It's tobacco. Share with me?" Tim said, and Matt took the pipe eagerly. He took a hit then passed it to Tim. "Okay, Matt. Talking time. First thing's first, do you feel you consented to what we did?" Tim asked, taking a hit, and Matt nodded. "Good, me too. So no rape happened, and that's good. Okay… Matt, what we did was really, really frowned upon. Even if you're 18, you're my student, and a lot of shit is going to go down if anyone finds out." Tim said, passing the joint to Matt. "Yeah. I know. I promise, no one will find out." Matt said, took a hit, and passed it back. "You swear on your life that you're never gonna tell a soul?" Tim asked, and Matt nodded.

"Okay. Because they'd probably send me back to Holland if anyone found out about this." Tim said, taking a last hit and putting his pipe down. "That being said, I don't believe in restricting any sort of love if the two people are consenting. Say I was a lawyer or something; it'd be perfectly fine for me to fuck an 18 year old. I don't know if what we did was technically illegal, it sure wouldn't be in Holland, but… I really enjoyed your company last night. And I want to keep doing it." Tim said stoically, and Matt's eyes went wide. "You- you do? Even if it is probably illegal?" Matt protested, and Tim laughed. "I'm Dutch, Matt. I could give a fuck less about legality." He said, and Matt slowly nodded. "Okay. Yeah, you're right… I'd like to keep doing it too." He said, and Tim smiled.

"Great." Tim said, and ate a bit of his probably-Dutch food. "I must ask though. Do you want to keep it open, or make it exclusive? I'm fine with whatever you want to do, but I won't be fucking anyone else either way." Tim asked Matt, and Matt didn't even need to think before he said, "Exclusive." It wasn't like he was going to be fucking anyone else either.

"Even better. Anyways, we gotta get going. You want a ride?" Tim asked and Matt nodded, grinning. Tim put up his food and they walked out Tim's car. He had a pretty nice Volkswagen. They spent most their ride to school in silence, but Matt didn't mind. He was used to silent rides because of Alfred. When they pulled into the school parking lot, Tim looked at Matt. "If anyone asks why you're with me, I saw you walking and gave you a ride, okay?" Matt nodded. The two got out of the car and started walking to school, and no one questioned a thing.

"Okay, we're pretty early, so just come chill with me in the art room. Work on a project or something." Tim said as they walked inside. They quickly went to the art room, and Tim closed the door. "I'm going to get some grading done. You're getting a new assignment in Political today, so you can get started on that." Tim gestured to a sheet of paper on his desk explaining the project, and Matt took it. He got out paper and the paints he liked (but he never seemed to get, since other people always got it first) and tried to work, but he couldn't will himself to begin.

"Matt, work, or I'm kicking you out," Tim called without looking up, and Matt sighed. "I can't, Tim. There's just too much on my mind." He replied. "Well tell me about it, boo." Tim said with a laugh. Matt smiled. "I'm just thinking about what we did. It's crazy. I would have never believed I would fuck my hot art teacher." Matt said idly, opening his paint. Tim smiled. "I wouldn't say 'hot.' More like devilishly handsome. By the way, I had no idea you were gay."

Matt raised his eyebrow. "Really? I thought it was pretty obvious, honestly. I went on vacation in Vancouver a few years back and guys were just throwing themselves at me. But to be fair, I didn't know you were either, so." Tim laughed. "Man, I'm glad I solicited drugs to you, Matt." Tim said softly, and went back to work. Matt smiled and started painting on his paper. He was glad too. Before long, the bell rang, and Matt put his art he had started on his shelf. "I'll see you next period, Tim," Matt called, and Tim motioned him out the door.

1st period was Math, and it went by excruciatingly slow. Knowing he'd get to see Tim again next period was making Matt jittery, and he really could care less about the quadratic formula, when in the next wing, was the man he had slept with the night before. Matt had been thinking about him all period, and was making himself flustered (and slightly hard.) Unable to focus anymore, Matt asked his teacher, Mr. Honda, if he could go to the nurse nearly 10 minutes before class was out. When he was excused, however, he went in the opposite direction, and found himself in the art wing.

"Matt? You're never early." Tim laughed when he got into the room, slightly out of breath. "Maybe I've got more of an incentive to get here early now," Matt said, sitting at his table. "Mmm, or maybe you're just developing a crush," Tim replied, putting the assignment Matt had gotten that morning on each table. "You wish." Matt said. He sounded confident, but his face was growing red. Crush? He didn't really know if what he had was a crush. He'd have to think about it. Suddenly, Tim's hand was on Matt's shoulder, and Matt couldn't think of anything.

Tim leaned in and spoke softly and quickly, hoping no other students would come in so early. "Hey, there's no reason to be like that. Maybe I'm developing a crush too, huh?" He asked, and Matt couldn't say a word. He looked up at Tim, and suddenly his lips were captured in a kiss. Matt could have melted. It was better than his high last night, and this kiss was chaste, slow, the complete opposite of the sloppy, blurry kisses last night. The bell startled them, and Tim quickly gained his composure and went to open the locked door.

Tim shot Matt a smirk, and Matt could have fainted. His heart was beating way too fast. Once students started to pour in, and Matt's head stopped reeling so much, he did a cursory assessment of his situation. Okay, maybe he did have a crush.


	4. Chapter 4

After class was over, Tim asked Matt to stay behind. Matt had lunch next period, and Tim didn't have a class, so he decided to do it. Why wouldn't he? His head was still spinning from the kiss before class, and he was hoping to have more of it.

"I just remembered something, Matt." Tim said as he shut and locked his door. Matt looked at him. "You left all your pot at my house." He said. "And my socks." Matt said, smiling. "Well, you're going to have to go get the things you left, aren't you?" Tim smirked. "So how about you come home with me after school?" Tim asked, and Matt nodded, but then started to shake his head.

"I can't. Fuck. Mom's supposed to be flying in tonight from France to visit, and I think Dad's gonna actually be home for once." Matt groaned, and Tim looked confused. "I kind of have a really dysfunctional family." Matt said, and Tim nodded. "I'd normally skip out on them, because really, when have they ever even acted like a family? But I haven't seen my mom since she moved like, 10 years ago. Plus, I'd be leaving my brother alone for all the fighting that's bound to happen and he'd never forgive me."

"Mmm. I know exactly how you feel. I moved to another continent to escape my batshit family. It was pretty much the same as you; I only really cared for my sister." Tim hummed, sitting beside Matt on the table. "How long will your mother be in for?" he asked, and Matt thought. "Until she gets fed up and flies back to France. It probably won't take very long. Maybe a week?" he sighed. Tim made a noise of disapproval, and intertwined his hand with Matt's. "I guess we need to make up for lost time, then?"

Matt was going to question what he meant, but soon Tim's mouth was sucking on his throat, and he was left speechless. Matt groaned softly, and pulled away from Tim. "Mmm, we'll get caught, Tim. And my mom will see all these hickeys," he said softly. Tim nodded, and pulled away. "Then just let me kiss you, Matt." He said softly. Matt looked Tim in the eyes. "I really don't want to get caught, Tim." He said, and Tim smirked. "I've gotten high in here, Matt. No one goes to the art wing, especially not this far back. We'll be fine." He assured him. "Promise?" Matt asked. Tim nodded.

Matt exhaled shakily, and leaned in to kiss Tim. It was slow, but passionate. If only the smell of paint wasn't so strong and the florescent lights didn't shine so harshly, it would have been almost romantic. The room was silent except for the sound of blood rushing in Matt's ears and the unmistakable wet sounds of the kiss. Careful to avoid Tim's perfectly styled hair, Matt held onto the back of his neck with one hand and let the other fall to his waist. Tim didn't seem to have the same respect for hair as Matt did, and fisted one hand in Matt's blond curls. Matt felt Tim's mouth open and he quickly opened his too, allowing his tongue to touch Tim's.

Matt loved the feeling of Tim's tongue in his mouth. He loved the taste, the softness, everything. He had only kissed a few people, but none of them could compare to Tim. Must be a Dutch thing. Matt ran his hand up and down Tim's side, and he felt Tim smile in the kiss. Matt pulled away for air, grinning happily. Tim placed his forehead against Matt's and sighed happily, his green eyes meeting Matt's blue ones. "There are a few things in life that are better when you aren't high, and kissing is one of them." Tim said, pressing a peck to the corner of Matt's lips. Matt made a noise of approval. It was silent for a little while, and the two took turns pressing kisses to each other's lips.

Matt broke the silence after a few minutes. "Hey, Tim, I've always wondered something." He said idly, pulling his forehead away. "What is it?" Tim asked. Matt put his hand on Tim's cheek, and slowly inched it up to the scar on his forehead. "What the hell happened here?" he asked, and Tim just smiled. "You aren't the only one who has a dysfunctional family."

"Yeah, but what happened?" Matt didn't want to let it go that easy. "I'll tell you all about it later. For now, I don't want to scare you off." Tim said, leaning back in for another kiss. Matt hummed, and dropped his hand back to his face. That was kind of a weird thing to say, but with Tim so close to him, Matt wasn't thinking properly enough to process it. Tim's lips met Matt's again, and he kissed him with fervor.

Matt's phone started buzzing against the table, and made the two men jump apart. "Oh my god," Matt panted, his heart beating quickly. He checked the caller ID, and of course it was Alfred. Who else called him? He quickly hit answer and put it to his ear. "Where are you, Matt? You didn't eat lunch with me and Toris like you always do!" Al complained, and Matt cringed. "Tim's helping me come up with a portfolio for that art school I applied to. You know, that one in Seattle?" he managed to lie after a moment. "Oh," Al said flatly.

"Mattie, are you avoiding me?" Al asked sadly after Matt didn't answer. "What? Of course not!" Matt answered. "We can talk about it when we drive home, okay? Tim's kind of giving me this weird look, I think he wants me to hang up. Bye Al," he said, ignoring his brother's protests and pressing the 'End Call' button. He let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, he needs constant attention or he gets lonely." Matt laughed to Tim, and Tim smiled. "My sister's the same way. I swear. I'm a grown ass man, and she still will call me some nights. Always, 'Broeder, wanneer kom je terug naar Nederland? Deze kleine vakantie heeft te lang geduurd.' I haven't even told her yet that I've gotten my permanent residence." He laughed.

"I don't know what you just said, but I'm sure it's tragic, Tim." Matt hummed, and looked at the clock. The bell would ring soon. Matt started to straighten himself up, hoping to not look like he had just had a makeout session. Tim watched him as he did, and smiled. "So, art school?" he asked, and Matt nodded. "Well you certainly have the talent. I went to art school before I went into teaching," Tim mused. Matt ran a hand through his hair for a last time, and turned to Tim.

"Mmm, yes, well I have a dream to be a starving artist," Matt hummed, leaning in to give Tim a peck on the lips before the bell rang. "I had the exact same dream when I went to an art school 5,000 miles away from home. And look where I ended up." Tim laughed, and pulled Matt in for another. "Maybe I'll be better than you, old man. You really should help me with that portfolio, though." Matt suggested. "After you called me an old man? I don't think I should. I'm hurt, Matt." Tim said with a mock pout.

Matt checked the clock a last time, and gave Tim one last kiss right as the bell rang. "There, does that make up for it?" He smirked and walked towards the door. "Almost," Tim said. "Whatever. See you in 6th, old man!" Matt called and walked out the door, grinning like a fool. He was happy, and he didn't feel like anything could break his mood.

Matt wasn't sure why he ever really had those thoughts, because whenever he did, something invariably came to break his mood. Today, it just happened to be running into Alfred on the way to Foods class. "Mattie!" He called, and pulled Matt in for a hug. As homophobic as he was, Al sure was touchy with other guys. "Hey, Al," Matt said, panicking slightly. He hadn't checked a mirror before he had left Tim's room, what if he looked as well-shagged as he felt?

Alfred laughed, and started walking in the direction of Foods with Matt. "So how have you been, stranger?" Al asked, clapping Matt on the back. "Good, I guess." Matt replied. "Guess you can't remember much of last night?" Al smirked, and Matt felt like he could have smacked it off. That's not how pot worked; Matt remembered every glorious detail, not that he could ever tell Al that. "Er, no. Not really." He lied.

"Well damn, you're missing out then. Mattie finally got laid, and he can't even remember it!" Al laughed, somewhat louder than necessary, staring at his neck. Fuck, the hickeys! Matt could have killed Tim at that moment. "Will you shut up, Al?! I'm a virgin, and you know it. There weren't even any girls over last night." Matt lied in a huff. "Then what happened here?" Al said, prodding at a particularly dark hickey. "I-I don't know, I already told you I don't remember last night." Matt replied, getting more and more flustered. "Wait a second, is it a fucking track mark?" Al asked suddenly, in a very accusatory tone.

"What?! Al. No, think about what you just said. Do you think-" Suddenly the minute warning bell rang, and Al stepped away from his brother. "We'll talk about it once we're in the car. I can't believe you, Matthew." Al said seriously, and Matt groaned and walked into Foods class. Great, now Al thought he was a junkie. How fucking stupid could you be? He should have just said he fucked some girl, no matter how long he had been claiming he was a virgin to Al.

See, Matt had a plethora of lies he told to Al on a regular basis. They ranged from, 'No, Al, I didn't eat the Pizza Rolls. Dad must have done it,' to, 'Of course I'm a virgin, Al. I'm saving myself for the right girl.' Though he tended to use the Pizza Roll lie more (he got really hungry when he was high,) he would defend the virgin lie til his dying day. Or the day he moved to Seattle and came out. Either one. He had been lying about that since the day in Vancouver 2 years ago when he first lost his virginity to some Russian immigrant named Ivan who worked at the hotel he was staying at. Yeah, Matt was definitely keeping that a secret.

But he really would rather be known as a non-virgin than a junkie to his brother. He let out a sigh and put his head down. He was going to have to come up with a lie, and fast.


	5. Chapter 5

Matt's 4th and 5th period was a double period Mandarin Language and Chinese Culture class. The teacher, Mr. Wang, was Leon Wang's older brother, and Matt shared the class with Leon. Leon was already fluent in Mandarin, and Matt never had any idea what was going on, so they often just spent the whole 2 periods goofing off. It was during Mandarin that Matt figured out a lie that kept up his appearance as a virgin, and a non-junkie, and it was all because of Mr. Wang.

Leon and Matt had been sketching out ideas for Political, when Mr. Wang walked up behind them. "Aiya, you two are always goofing off," he complained. "Well, yeah, I speak Mandarin _and_ Cantonese already, Yao. And I grew up in China. Remember? You were there too. I have plenty of Chinese culture." Leon said. "Okay, but you don't have to distract Matthew all the time!" Mr. Wang complained. "To be fair, Matt's probably going to fail this class already. He just can't learn the characters," Leon mused.

Mr. Wang looked to Matt. "That's not true. Matthew did very well when he would actually pay attention. You were a brilliant student-" Mr. Wang looked at Matt's neck and his eyes widened. "Aiya! It looks like someone put a vacuum cleaner to your neck!" He exclaimed, and Leon laughed. "Yeah. Someone's _vacuum_ had fun last night." He said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Matt went to smack at his arm, when suddenly an idea hit him.

"It totally is from a vacuum, though." Matt said once Mr. Wang had left. "I got blackout with some friends last night and this Dane decided it would be funny to suck people with his crazy high-powered Danish vacuum cleaner." Leon raised his thick eyebrows. "It may be the Year of the Horse, but you don't have to tell such horseshit." He said, and Matt sighed. "Okay, yeah, they're hickeys. But my dumbass brother thinks they're track marks, do you think he'd believe it?"

Leon cracked a smile. "If he's stupid enough to think those were track marks, I'm sure you could convince him that Mars is communist." He said, turning back to his sketches for Political. Matt looked down at it to see several rough sketches of naked ladies. "Didn't Tim tell you to stop drawing boobs?" Matt asked. "Ah, no. He just asked me to stop drawing sexualized boobs. So I've moved my platform from gay marriage to women's rights. I personally believe we need another bra-burning revolution," Leon thought out loud, and elicited a groan from Matt. "You're fucking weird, Leon."

By the time 6th period rolled around, Matt was ecstatic to get out of Mandarin. He honestly never liked the class, and had always spent it wishing Art IV would come faster, but today was almost painful. Matt wanted to see Tim. As soon as the bell rang, Matt had bolted out the door and was running towards the Art Wing. He wanted to be the first one to class.

And he was. "Wow, Matt. You're so punctual today. I wonder what could be the cause of that," Tim laughed. "Shut up, Tim," Matt panted. "I'm mad at you." Tim smiled. "Aw, our first fight! What's wrong?" he asked, and Matt just gestured towards his neck. "Oh. Sorry about that. Here, do you want my scarf?" Tim asked, pulling his long blue scarf off a shelf. Matt shook his head. "No, then my brother would just be even more suspicious. He thinks they're track marks." Matt sighed, and Tim busted out laughing. "Are you serious? How stupid is this fucking kid?" he laughed. "Pretty stupid. I'm gonna have to find a way to convince him they're fine before he has a fit in front of Mom." Tim opened his mouth to say something else, but students started pouring into the class. He gave a quick wink to Matt, and started his instruction for the day.

Matt, however, couldn't pay attention. Tim had started showing off a new painting technique, and wow, he was gorgeous when he got into painting. Matt wasn't sure why he hadn't developed a crush on him earlier, because- wow. His eyes got this intent look, and he bit at his lip in concentration. He wouldn't even tear his eyes away from the painting to blink, and Matt imagined Tim staring at him like that.

He felt blood rush to his lower half, and decided that he shouldn't think about Tim like that in class. For the moment, he decided to stop even thinking about Tim, as he picked up his paintbrush and started using the technique he had just been taught to try and paint something that would make him lose his awkward boner.

By the time class was over, Matt had begun painting a vase full of tulips, eerily similar to the one he had seen in Tim's house last night. Matt smiled, Tim would get a kick out of it. He went to put the painting up on his shelf, when Tim rested his hand on his shoulder. "Stay after class a bit." He said softly, and Matt nodded. Once all the students had left, Tim quickly closed the door. "We really don't have a lot of time, so here, let's just cut to the chase." Tim pressed a very quick kiss to Matt's lips, and Matthew felt himself start to melt into it. It was over as quickly as it started, and Tim handed Matt a slip of paper.

"My number, you can text, or call, whenever you want to. That is, if you want to." Matt felt his heart beat faster, and he nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I'll text you once I'm home." He stammered out, and Tim smiled. Another quick peck on the lips, and he started walking with Matt towards the door. "I've got my freshman class now, or I'd let you stay. Trust me, I'd much rather have your company than theirs," he whispered as he opened the door and several freshmen poured in, complaining about "Mr. Van Der Heide not letting them in," and Matt smiled. "Mr. Van Der Heide? He really must not like his freshmen," he thought aloud, and made his way to English.

Which, unfortunately, he shared with Alfred. Alfred, who seemed to still be on the offensive with Matt after his 'discovery.' "Why are you so late, Matt, hmm?" Al asked, and Matt let out an angry sigh. "I was organizing my portfolio with Tim. The exact same shit I've been doing all day. Why, do you think I was somewhere else?" Matt snapped, and sat down. He really hated the fact that the teacher had sat them in alphabetical order. He was starting to hate the fact that he and Al shared the last name "Kirkland" too.

"Maybe I do, Matt. Maybe I'm worried your drug use is getting out of hand." Al accused quietly as the teacher took roll. "My drug use? Pot isn't a drug, dumbass, it's a plant. It's _natural._" Matt hissed. "Yeah, well, you know what else is natural? Bears. But you don't see me lighting a bear on fire and trying to breathe him in!" Al said, and Matt looked at him confused. "What the hell, Alfred, that's just- I'm not even going to dignify that with a response." Matt, said, and opened up the book they were reading in class.

"Fine, you don't like that metaphor? Then opium. Opium is natural, and you know what it did to Mom-" Al was cut off by Matt. "Yeah, I know exactly what it did to Mom. I know exactly why tonight is the first night we're seeing her in what, 10 years? I don't smoke opium, I don't do heroin. I smoke _pot._ There's a world of difference. You're just fucking stupid and thought a bruise was fucking track marks." Matt said, and he saw Al recoil. Matt never explicitly said he smoked pot before, even when Al walked in on him in the living room with a pipe. He got ahold of himself and the two went right back to their quiet argument.

"Mom smoked pot before she stared heroin." Al said matter-of-factly. "Yeah, and Mom's a fucking dumbass. Now please. I'm trying to read." Matt said, burying his nose in his book. "And who's to say you're not a dumbass, too?" Al asked, and Matt sighed angrily. "Because I've seen what heroin fucking does to you, Alfred. Mom's been in that fancy rehab center in France ever since she and Dad got divorced and you can tell by her voice when she bothers to call that it has fucked her up. Heroin broke apart our family and I'm not anywhere near as stupid enough to try it." Matt said, feeling himself get more and more frustrated.

"Yeah, but-" Al tried to argue back, but Matt cut him off. "No, you know what? Maybe I'm worried about your sex addiction. You say I'm acting like Mom, but guess what? You're acting like Dad, and his constant fucking around tore us up as much as Mom's shooting up did. Maybe I'm worried that you'll fuck a slut and get AIDs, have you thought about that? I may smoke a lot but at least I don't fucking risk my life like you do." Matt retorted, and Al looked hurt. "I always use a condom, first of all-"

"Kirklands, would you kindly stop arguing?" their English teacher asked, and the twins stood up at the same time. "Yeah, no, fuck this. I'm out." Al huffed, and walked out the door. Matt followed silently. When he saw Al walking out to the parking lot, Matt stormed away. Al wanted to abandon him at school with no way home? Fine, fuck him. He'd call Mathias and badger him into picking him up. Or, seeing as he had unconsciously found himself walking down the Art Wing, maybe Matt could get a ride home from someone else.

He waited in one of the abandoned classrooms until the final bell rang, and he began making his way to Tim's room. He opened the door and saw Tim grading at his desk, a place that seemed to be a natural position for him. He didn't even look up as Matt leaned against his desk. "So, uh. My brother got pretty mad at me last period and kind of stormed out and took his car with him. I'd pretty much do anything to get home before my mom gets here." Matt suggested to Tim.

"I don't know, Matt. I've got a lot of papers to get graded, and I still have to come up with a midterm for you IV kids." He said, and smirked. "However, I could be convinced." His smirk grew larger and Matt just looked at him. "And how could I do that?" Matt asked, turning around and leaning down closer to Tim. "I don't know, you tell me. You did say _anything,"_ Tim hummed devilishly. Matt smirked back to his teacher, and closed the distance between them with a quick kiss. "Let me under your desk."

Tim had a pretty roomy desk. It was old; he had probably had it for ages before he brought it to school with him. Matt crawled under it, and was thankful for how much space there was, and how it hid him from anyone but Tim. Tim stared down at Matt as he unbuttoned his pants teasingly slow, and let a small moan out as Matt's hands brushed over his rapidly hardening length when he unzipped them.

Once Matt had gotten Tim's half hard cock out of his slacks, he gave the head a tentative lick, then started to stroke him. He hit every spot Tim loved, and had him fully hard in a matter of seconds. Matt took the head into his mouth, and sucked teasingly. Tim let out a very soft moan as Matt slowly took all of Tim in. He wasn't the biggest he had ever done this with (Ivan had him beat by a long shot,) but he still gagged softly when Tim hit the back of his throat. "That's so hot, Matt," Tim breathed, and Matt made sure to do it again. That caused a slightly louder moan to escape the older man's lips, and Matt hummed around his cock, and started sucking him off as hard as he could.

Matt's jaw had started to ache and his knees were beginning to hurt when Tim finally whispered, "I'm gonna cum." Remembering Tim's comment from the night before about Matt being hot when he was covered in cum, Matt pulled away and smirked up at Tim. Tim was confused for a moment, but realization hit him quickly, and he started stroking his cock at Matt's face. A few pumps later, Matt felt warmth hit his face and he realized, oh fuck, Tim was cumming on his face. Matt's own cock throbbed uncomfortably in his pants and he rubbed himself as Tim rode out his orgasm.

Once he had caught his breath and tucked his cock back in his pants, Tim looked down to see Matt covered in cum and rubbing furiously at himself through his jeans. "God, can you get any hotter? You're gonna make me hard again," Tim smiled and ran his finger through some of the cum on Matt's face. He brought it to Matt's lips, and silently begged for entry. When Matt didn't grant it, Tim looked him in the eyes and sighed. "Gonna make me admit it, huh? I haven't been with a guy since I lived in Amsterdam. I'm clean, I promise." He pleaded, and Matt's lips wavered. "Come on, suck." Tim offered, and Matt did as he was told, cleaning Tim's fingers of the cum. "So fucking hot, you're fucking beautiful, Matt… Let me get you a towel."

Tim slowly rose, adjusting his cock in his pants as he did so. Matt saw him walk out of sight, and head the rip of paper towels and the sink running. When Tim started to walk over, however, Matt's heart nearly stopped as he heard a knock at the door.


	6. Chapter 6

He silently pulled off his hoodie and started scrubbing at the cum on his face as he heard the door open."Hello, Mr. Van Der Heide!" He heard a voice say, and it took him a moment to realize it was a counselor, Mrs. Hedervary. "Come on, Elizabeta, I've told you a thousand times I can't stand my last name. Call me Tim." Matt heard Tim say nervously. "But it's just so unprofessional! What does your last name mean, anyways?" Mrs. Hedervary asked, and Matt mentally groaned. This really wasn't the time to be having a chit-chat. "It means 'of the heath,' I have a family of farmers."

He heard Elizabeta make a noise of approval, and heard her walking towards the desk. No, no. "This is a beautiful painting, who made it?" She asked, and Matt could hear her leaning over the desk. "Matthew Kirkland. I'm helping him set up a portfolio, he's applying for an art school." Tim said, his voice getting even more nervous as Matt heard Mrs. Hedervary walking around the desk.

"Oh, I just came to talk to you about the art school applicants! Matthew is applying to the Cornish College of the Arts. I honestly didn't think he had any chance to get in, but, seeing his paintings, maybe he does." Mrs. Hedervary hummed, picking up a piece of art. _Wow, you aren't so hot yourself, bitch,_ Matthew thought, but jumped back slightly as she started trailing slowly behind the desk.

Suddenly, he head Tim's voice, loud and booming in Dutch. What the hell? He heard Mrs. Hedervary jump back, and sighed. "Laura, wat is het? Kalmeren, alstublieft. Ik kan je niet begrijpen. Laura-" Tim cut himself off and started speaking English again. "Mrs. Hedervary, I am sorry, but I'm going to have to cut this meeting short. If you'll please excuse yourself," he said, and Matt heard Mrs. Herdervary walking away from the desk and out the door as Tim started shouting in Dutch again.

After a few minutes, Tim stopped talking, and walked back behind his desk. "Yeah, we fucked up doing that here. Let's make a run for it, before she comes back." Matt nodded, and the two quickly made their way to the parking lot. Once they were outside, Matt felt his heart start to slow down. "So, what was all the Dutch yelling about?" he asked once they had reached Tim's car. "Oh, I had gotten a phone call, so I answered and pretended my sister had been hurt. That telemarketer is probably never calling me back though, and I saved your ass. Win-win situation." Tim smiled.

Tim pulled out of the parking lot, and Tim gestured to the glove box. "You look pretty tense. Grab a cigarette if you want." Matt nodded, and opened it. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it with the car lighter, and took a deep drag. The nicotine did wonders to ease the budding anxiety attack that Matt felt coming on. "I'm surprised you don't have any pot," Matt hummed. "Psh, I'm not risking them coming out with drug dogs and searching my car. I've got plenty of it at home, trust me." Matt nodded, his head growing light from the nicotine. As much as he smoked pot, Matt rarely smoked tobacco.

"Okay, Matt. Tell me where you live." Tim asked once they were on the road. "Brookshire," Matt said, and Tim let out a slow whistle. "That swanky gated community? No wonder you can afford to go to Cornish. What do your parents even do for a living?" He asked, getting into a turn lane. "My dad's a CEO or something of some business and my mom's mom was a really famous French actress. She died before my parents divorced and we all got a ton of money. Me and Al probably have about a million each gathering interest in a Swiss bank, that Dad said we could have after college." Tim's eyes widened as he stared at the road.

"Damn, Matt. I had a thousand dollars to my name when I came to America." He said, making a turn. "It's a weird feeling knowing the 18 year old I fuck is richer than I'll ever be," He hummed when Matt didn't answer. "Yeah, but Dad has said he won't give my money to me if I major in art. So I'm getting an associate's in business from a community college in Seattle. It's bullshit." Matt groaned. "Says the spoiled rich kid," Tim laughed.

"I'm not spoiled. And I'm not rich, my dad is." Matt grumbled, and Tim just laughed even more. "Oh yeah, you're a Marxist, aren't you?" "Shut up! I care a lot about the struggles of the working class, and I plan on helping a lot when I get my money- " Tim cut Matt off with a kiss once they had stopped at a red light. "Shhh, I'm not judging you. Just poking a bit of fun. I'd kill to have that kind of money." Tim said, and Matt pouted. "Come on, Bright Eyes, smile." Tim said, and poked Matt in the side.

"I'm not ticklish. Or rich." Matt grumbled. Tim nodded as he saw a sign saying Brookshire was ¼ a mile away, and pulled over into a gas station. "I can't take you into the gates. That's a big no-no, it'll get us found out. But I'm not letting you go any further until I cheer you up." Tim said, and Matt shook his head. "Just let me go, I have a shitstorm to deal with at home-" Matt was cut off by Tim's fingers on his mouth. "I can cheer you up, yeah?" Tim asked, and leaned over for a kiss. Matt kissed back, and he felt his irritation wash away. Tim deepened the kiss, and Matt gripped his hair, letting his tongue play with Tim's. He really did know how to cheer a person up. He pulled away after a moment, and looked at Tim. "Better?" Tim asked, and Matt nodded.

"I'll drive you a bit closer. How are you telling your family you got home?" Tim asked, pulling out of the parking lot. "I walked," Matt said, and Tim raised his eyebrows. "That's a damn long walk." He said, and before long he saw the walls of Brookshire. "Okay, I'll let you out here. This good?" Matt nodded and opened the door. "Wait," Tim called, and Matt got back into the car. "One last kiss…" Tim said softly, and pulled Matt into a soft kiss. When they broke, Tim sighed, and put his car back into gear. "You still have my number, right? Text me," Tim asked, and smiled and left his car. "Bye, Tim," he called, and Tim nodded in response.

Matt started the short walk to his house and he sighed. Time to deal with a shitstorm.


	7. Chapter 7

Matt cringed as he opened the door, as if he was expecting something to jump out at him. In a way, he was right. "Matthew Kirkland, are you on drugs?" His father barked at him as soon as he stepped inside. "Welcome home, Dad." Matt smiled, and shut the door behind him. "You answer my question, boy." Arthur pressed on, and Matt groaned. "I'm sure Alfred told you that?" Matt asked. "Yes, your brother did tell me that." Arthur said.

"Where is the little rat, anyways?" Matt asked. "Picking your mother up from the airport. And you still haven't answered me." Arthur really wasn't going to let this go. "No, Dad. I'm not on drugs. Why the fuck would I be on drugs?" Matt groaned. "Because you're running with those thugs in Portland. And watch your language." Arthur said. "Thugs… You mean Mathias and Lukas? Jesus Christ, Dad, they're from Denmark and Norway. There isn't crime in Denmark and Norway!" Matthew exclaimed. "Well your brother told me you were out all night last night with them, and you couldn't remember a thing." Matt sighed in irritation.

"No, Dad, I remember everything. I didn't want to tell Alfred, because he'd be an asshole about it." Matthew said, coming up with a lie. "Then tell me, please, what did you do with these foreign hooligans?" Arthur demanded. A vein was starting to appear at his neck, and Matt fought the urge to smile while he mentally perfected his lie. "I went up to Portland. We smoked pot, played Scrabble, and I helped them clean their house." Matt had a talent for lying, but this wasn't so much of a lie. It's really all he did when he hung out with Mathias and Lukas.

"Then show me these track marks your brother was going on about." Arthur commanded, and Matt shrugged off his hoodie. "Now explain them." Arthur pointed at his neck. "Oh my god, is everyone in this family fucking stupid? Why would I shoot up in my neck? They're hickeys, dad. Honestly, I think you'd be able to figure that out with all the sex you have." Matt sneered. "And just who are you fucking in Portland?" Arthur yelled. "I'm not fucking anyone, Dad. But you might want to ask your other son that same question and see how he responds." Matt said, and walked up to his room.

Matt threw his dirtied hoodie into the laundry and flopped on his bed. He pulled out his phone, and the slip of paper with Tim's number on it he had been given earlier. He saved the number to his contacts, and opened up his messages.

_Tim? It's Matt. _He sent, hoping he had gotten the number right. Not long after, his phone buzzed.

_H_ey_ Matt, what's up?_

_Sitting at home. I should have stayed with you._

_And why is that?_

_Already fighting, and my mom and brother aren't even home yet._

As soon as Matt hit send, he heard the front door open and loud voices fill his quiet home. "Speak of the devil," he sighed to himself, and went to his door. He debated even going down, but decided it would be worse if he didn't. He opened the door, and slowly walked down the hallway to the stairs. He felt his phone vibrate, but decided not to check it until he was alone again.

He walked down the stairs unhurriedly, and took his time getting to the living room. Though he tried to delay it, he knew what was coming was inevitable. He sighed and walked into the living room. He heard a feminine voice shriek and yell his name, and he cursed in his head as he waited for what he knew was coming.

"Matthew!" Francine yelled to him as he walked in. "Oh, you have gotten so big!" she exclaimed, and Matthew mumbled, "Well, you haven't seen me since I was 8." She chose to ignore that, and kept going on. "How is your French coming along?" she asked, and Matt gave her a cross look. "I haven't been taking lessons since grade school." He said matter-of-factly, but she ignored that too.

She decided that she was done pestering Matt and moved onto Arthur. This let Matt finally get a good look at her. Francine had gotten a lot skinnier since she had left. Matthew could vaguely remember her being curvy and buxom, but now she just looked skeletal. Matt wondered if she was still using, and decided she probably was. He knew it wasn't cold enough to warrant a long sleeved dress and fur coat like the one she was wearing. Arthur and Francine had already started to fight, and Matt sighed, and turned to go back upstairs.

Alfred followed him, and stopped him once he was sure the bickering adults couldn't hear them. "I'm sorry, bro." Alfred said, and Matt ignored him. "Did you hear me? I said I'm sorry." Al said again, following Matt further down the hall. "Yeah, I heard you. Why the fuck did you tell dad?" Matt asked, annoyance hinting in his voice. "Because I was worried about you! You were being all mysterious and you come home with these big ass bruises on your neck, how the fuck did you get them if they aren't hickeys or track marks?" Al asked.

"I honestly don't know, Alfred." Matt sighed. He knew his brother would give up if he just kept lying. "Fine, just, don't hole yourself up in your room the whole time Mom's here, please." Alfred said, and Matt didn't answer. He went into his room and closed the door in Al's face. He walked over to his bed and fell onto it with a sigh. "I'm not going to last this week," he said out loud, and pulled out his phone to see what Tim had replied.

_Well damn, I'll sneak you out tonight if you want me to. _

He quickly typed out a reply. _I'm 18, I could leave right now if I wanted to and they couldn't do shit. But I'm going to try to at least stick it out for tonight._ He hit send and put his phone back into his pocket. He could hear Arthur and Francine fighting downstairs, and decided to listen in.

"You're impossible, Francine, this is why I divorced you in the first place!" Arthur yelled, and he heard Francine scoff. "Are you joking? I divorced _you._ You cheating son-of-a-bitch, I divorced you!" Matt thought she was close to tears, but he could remember enough about his mom to know she cried crocodile tears whenever she could. "Yes, well at least my cheating isn't a federal crime! How could you bring this filth into my house?" Arthur yelled, and Matt heard the garbage disposal turn on. "Arthur! That was worth almost 200 dollars- I cannot believe you would do that!" Francine yelled.

Matt smiled a bit. Did Arthur just flush Francine's drugs? He laughed and felt his phone vibrate. _You're a good man, Matt. I wouldn't be able to do that with my family. _Tim had replied, and Matt quickly typed out a reply back. _I've got a high bullshit tolerance, I guess,_ he sent, and went back to listening in.

"You've spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on rehabs and you're still just a no good junkie. Really, Francine, I expected so much more of a woman of your pedigree." Arthur said bluntly, and Matt could hear Francine's crocodile tears start. "Oh, don't start that nonsense. Do your damn heroin if that's what you want to, but you won't be doing it in my home, under the same roof as my sons-" Arthur yelled, but Matt had decided to tune out when his phone buzzed again.

_I envy you. _Tim had said, and Matt thought for a bit about his next reply. _Ha, yeah. Think you could do me a favor? _He asked, and hit send. A few seconds later, his phone vibrated. _Sure._ Tim replied and Matt smiled as he typed. _Bring me my pot I left. I get the feeling I'm gonna need it._ Almost immediately, Tim replied. _I'm on my way._

_Great. Come to my house. Number 849. Big bourgeois brick thing, can't miss it. You can 'help me with my portfolio.' _Matt replied, and waited until he got a text back. _Oh trust me, I'll fix your portfolio up so nice, Vienna will be begging for you._ Matt smiled and just sent a smiley face in reply.

After a while, Matt got a text. He pulled out his phone and, of course, it was Tim. _Come get me in, asshole. I need a card or something. _He had sent, and Matt grabbed his access card off his nightstand. _Be there in 3 seconds._ He typed, and quickly made his way down the stairs. "Matthew? Where are you going?" Francine asked him as he opened the door.

"Out." Matt said, and though Francine had continued to question him, he left. He jogged to the gate, and quickly let Tim in. Once Tim's car was through the gate, Matt hopped in. "That was stupid," Tim said. "This whole place is stupid," Matt replied. Tim chuckled and drove up to Matt's home, which was one of the closest to the gate.

As he pulled in the driveway, Tim's eyes widened a bit. "You were right, this is pretty bourgeois. A hell of a lot nicer than my little shack." He said. "I hate it. It's too big for just me and Al." Matt really did hate his home. It was at least 7,000 square feet, and was a 6 bedroom, 6 bathroom McMansion. Their cleaning lady always pitched a fit about having to clean the whole place every week, even though it rarely got dirty. It always felt way too empty at night, even when Arthur was home. No, Matt hated it.

"Hey, once you graduate, you can be a starving artist and live in a dirty little apartment. Fucking hipster," Tim scoffed playfully, and Matt rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I doubt they'll even ask, but just tell my parents you're a friend of mine. And tell Al you're over to help with my portfolio." Matt said, getting out of Tim's car. Tim's eyebrows rose. "Isn't it a little soon to be introducing me to your family?"

"Shut the fuck up, I just want to get high." Matt grumbled, and walked into his house. Tim followed, reluctantly. "Okay, just get up here quickly." He said, half-jogging to his room with Tim in tow. Just as Matt suspected, his family could have cared less. Francine was passed out on the couch, and Arthur was probably working his troubles away in his office. He didn't know where Alfred was, and was still too mad at him to care.

They reached Matt's room, and he ran to his closet. He easily found his stash box, and brought it to the bed where Tim was sitting. "My Box of Wonders isn't as big as yours, but I think I've done pretty well for myself." He hummed and opened his small box. He tossed his dismal baggy of reggie into his trash, and held his hand out expectantly to Tim. With a smirk, Tim put Matt's pot in his hand. "I'd love to smoke this right here, but honestly, you're fucked if Al comes in and we're smoking pot together," Matt commented, and Tim nodded.

"So, uh, since we can't smoke, it'd be really great if you helped me actually set up my portfolio?" It was more of a question than a statement, and Matt said it with a smile. Tim sighed and laid back in Matt's bed. "Fine, fine. Bring me your sketchbook, and whatever paintings or other et cetera art you have laying around." He said, and Matt had them to him in a flash.

Matt watched as Tim poured over his artwork. Tim had this smirk on his face, and it seemed to grow a bit as he turned through each page. Was that a good thing? Either way, it made Matt's heart beat a little faster. "I could always tell you were a good artist, Matt, but some of these sketches are phenomenal. I mean, you could build up a portfolio a hell of a lot better than mine was," he said idly as he flipped through Matt's sketchbook. "And they have meaning behind them. That's what the people look for when they go through your portfolio. And they go crazy for theme. So, I say you take all these commie paintings and sketches, and you just focus on them in your portfolio. Do some help with some charities, and make it look like you are 110% about the liberation of the proletariat, and I'm sure you'll get in."

Matt nodded, and Tim started picking out various pieces of artwork. "You're gonna want to put your best work first. These three are probably strong enough to get you accepted then and there." Tim pulled out a sketch of several workers in a factory, a Sovietesque propaganda poster, and a canvas depicting a destroyed landscape on a beautiful day. "This one's great. Explain it to me," Tim requested, and Matt nodded. "It's the capitalist dream. A world with no environmental restrictions." He said softly, and Tim chuckled. "I like it."

Tim pulled about 15 more pieces out, and looked to Matt. "These are probably going to do well enough to get you in. I have no doubts that you'll be accepted, Matt, you're one of the best artists I've ever seen." Tim smiled, and Matt's face went red. "Really?" he asked, and Tim looked down at Matt's art. "Yeah," he mumbled. Matt smiled and pecked Tim's lips. "Thanks."

Tim smiled and put his hand on Matt's cheek. He kissed Matt again, deeply. Matt opened his mouth and let Tim's tongue play with his for a moment, then pulled away. "A great artist and a great kisser," Tim mused. "I could say the same about you," Matt replied softly and pecked him again on his cheek. Tim grinned, and stood up. "I gotta get out of here soon," He said, and Matt pouted.

"What? I've got a business to take care of! Money is important, Matt." Tim said, pulling out his phone. "_I'm_ important," Matt huffed, and flopped on his bed. "You are, but there's a guy coming from California to buy from me. He's buying a whole ounce off me, and I could really use the 800 bucks. And it's kind of a huge risk, being here while all your family is here." Tim said, and Matt sighed. "Fine, loser. Give me a kiss before you go." "Gladly," Tim said with a smirk.

He walked back towards Matt's bed and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I'll go with you to your car. Al's friends have gotten lost trying to leave before." Matt said, and pulled himself out of bed. He led Tim out of his house, and thankfully, no one was around. Francine had even moved from where she was on the couch. "I think I should win an award for the most irresponsible family ever," Matt mused as they reached the door. He opened it and walked out to Tim's car with him.

"I'd kiss you goodbye, but we'd get caught." Tim said as he climbed in his car. "Yeah, I know." Matt replied. "Tomorrow's Saturday though. Let me come over again, and I'll kiss you then." Tim said with a grin, and Matt grinned back. "It's a deal." He said, and Tim turned on his car. "See you tomorrow then, lover boy." Before Matt could reply, Tim had shut his door and was on his way out of Brookshire.


	8. Chapter 8

Matt had been in his room for a few hours, idly texting Tim, when he heard the front door open. Curiosity getting the best of him, he looked out his window to see who was leaving. He knew it wasn't Alfred, because he always took the window. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw that Francine was outside, getting into a car. He rolled his eyes and pulled his phone back out, knowing what his mother intended to do.

When he heard the front door open again and Francine trying to come back in silently, Matt decided to check on her. He opened his door and walked quietly down the stairs, and found his mother on the couch. "Mom," Matt called, and Francine slowly turned her head to her son. "Mom, are you high?" he asked, and Francine smiled. "I just smoked a little pot with my friends, mon cher, I'm fine." She said in a raspy voice. Matt sighed and sat beside her.

"Are you telling me the truth, Mom?" Matt asked, and Francine nodded. Matt gave her a disbelieving look, and pulled out his phone. He pressed Tim's contact and hit call. He picked up after a few rings. "Tim, do you know much about drugs that aren't pot?" Matt asked when he did. "Uh, yeah, I guess. Why?" Tim asked. "Great. Can you tell me what someone on heroin's gonna look like?" Matt glared accusingly at his mother. "Well they'll be really slow. It makes you pretty lethargic. They nod off a lot. It's a pretty hard drug to tell if someone's on, honestly. The pupils will tell you though, they constrict, it's like they aren't even there. And track marks of course. Why are you asking?" Matt heard Tim say, but he avoided the topic. "No reason, really. Just curious. You still coming over tomorrow?" Matt drew out, still looking at Francine.

"Yeah, I mean, if you want, but why the hell are you asking about heroin? You aren't thinking of doing it, are you?" Tim's voice sounded slightly alarmed. "No, Tim. I'm just seeing if someone I know is on it." Matt reassured him. "I'll text you in a bit, I've got to go." Matt said. They said their goodbyes, and Matt hung up.

"So that was a friend of mine from the Netherlands. Let me see your eyes, Mom." Matt said as he turned on a light. Just as Tim had said, her pupils were the size of pins. Matt sighed. "Roll up your sleeves." He demanded, though Francine protested, she did anyways. There were track marks in her arms, and Matt groaned. "How much have you spent on rehab, Mom? You've been away for 10 whole years trying to 'get clean,' obviously it hasn't worked. You probably just wanted to get away from me and Alfred and Dad." Matt glared at Francine, and she opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"Sleep on your side, Mom." Matt said, and rose from the couch. He turned off the lights and walked to the stairs. "I love you, Matthew. And your brother, and even your father. It may not seem like it, but I do." Francine called. "Yeah, whatever, Mom." Matt replied, and he walked up the stairs and went back to his room.

He pulled out his phone and decided to text Tim. _Sorry about that._ He sent, and went to his closet to find his stash box. He opened his window, and stuffed a towel under the locked door. He set his stash box on the bed, and pulled out his pipe. As he was packing the bowl, his phone vibrated, and he saw Tim had replied. _So, who's on H? _He had asked. He took a hit and felt bliss wash over him, and he replied, _My crazy ass mom. Been here less than 6 hours and she's already with her old crowd._

Matt took a couple more hits. He loved smoking alone. He loved not having to share, and not having to pace himself. He could get stoned in a few hits then be done, or smoke all night if he wanted to. He didn't have to deal with awkwardly being higher or lower than whomever he was smoking with, which always seemed to happen when he got high with Mathias and Lukas. (Mathias would be over the moon as quick as he could, and Lukas would always get high as slowly as possible.)

His phone buzzed, and shook him out of his thoughts. _Ha, yeah. I feel ya. My mom's on pills._ Tim sent, but Matt decided not to reply. He was too high to be having deep conversations. He turned on his TV and zoned in and out of an NHL documentary about Alexander Ovechkin, and gladly fell asleep when the urge hit him.

Matt woke to the sound of yelling in the living room early the next morning. "Go figure," he sighed, and went to go see what was happening. He stood at the top of the stairs, and peered down to the living room. "When I told you to go do your drugs somewhere else, it didn't mean to come home high!" Arthur was standing in front of a somewhat-more-coherent-than-she-was-last-night Francine. "Where would I go otherwise?" She asked, her voice slightly less raspy than Matt had heard a few hours ago. She was coming down. Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, and groaned.

"I don't bloody know. A hotel, perhaps? A park bench? What if you had overdosed and one of the kids found you?" Arthur demanded, and Francine rolled her eyes. "Alfred and Matthew are grown men, Arthur." Arthur ignored her, and kept on ranting. "Honestly, I don't know what your problem is. You've had every opportunity in life to be a successful woman, and you turned into a junkie. I bet your mother would be rolling in her grave if she saw the person her little girl had grown up to be."

Matt heard Alfred stumble out of his room, and he joined Matt at the stairs. "Fighting already? It's like, 5:30 in the morning." Alfred yawned. "Yeah, they woke me up. Here, listen to them with me, it's getting good." Matt said, forgetting that he was supposed to be mad at Alfred. It always happened like that, Matt could never stay mad at Al for too long.

"Her money is the reason you're as successful as you are, so you leave my mother out of this." Francine growled, and stood up from the couch. "And just where are you going?" Arthur asked as she started to walk. "The kitchen. Calm down Arthur, you know you have high blood pressure." Francine teased, and Arthur grew red. "Alfred, Matthew, come down and have breakfast!" Francine yelled, and the twins at the top of the stairs collectively groaned.

It was 6 in the morning on a Saturday, and they had to have a family breakfast. Those were bad enough with just Arthur there, but now with Francine? It would be hell. "I think this proves how dysfunctional our family really is," Alfred mumbled as they walked down the stairs. Matt nodded in agreement, and they walked into their rarely-used dining room. "Oh, it's so nice to see you boys! Tell me, what do you want to eat?" Francine said, beaming. Neither Alfred nor Matt answered, but Francine didn't mind.

"How about I make crepes? Alfred, you used to be crazy for my crepes when you were younger!" She hummed, and Al smiled. "Oh, yeah. You made them for us last time you were here, didn't you? You know, 10 years ago?" He said, his voice dripping in sarcasm, and Matt laughed softly. Arthur walked into the kitchen and smacked Al on the back of the head. "Now, boys. Be nice to your mother." He warned, but Al just rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, Dad. You've basically been gone the past 10 years too." Al grumbled. Arthur gave him a scathing look and sat across from the twins at the table. "You know my work keeps me away, Alfred. I can't help it." He said, and pulled out his Blackberry to check his email, as if he was making a point. "Oh yeah, your side job at the Indian reservation! I forget about that, sometimes. Tell me, where were you the past few days? The brothel or the casino?" Al sneered.

"Alfred Fitzgerald Kirkland, I cannot-" Arthur was cut off by Francine laughing. "Still the same Arthur I knew and loved." She laughed bitterly, and brought the finished crepes to the table. The family ate quietly, and the silence was heavy. Matt decided to do the only thing he knew to do to escape awkward moments; he pulled out his phone and fucked around on it. After a few games of Flappy Bird, he decided to finally text Tim back.

_It's 6 AM, I'm having a 'family breakfast,' and my brother has already brought up my dad's gambling problem. Help me._

Of course, he got no reply, and Matt was forced to continue eating in the awkward silence. Which wasn't really silent anymore; Francine was going on about something. Matt wasn't paying attention. He had zoned out on his phone. He zoned back in, and, oh. She was talking about her rehab. Deciding that was boring, Matt threw out his half-eaten crepes, and looked at Al. He quickly did the same, and the twins made a bee-line for their upstairs sanctuary. "I'll forgive you for telling Dad I'm on drugs if we can go hang out in Portland for like, 2 weeks." Matt said, and Alfred nodded. "I'll get my keys."


	9. Chapter 9

(**A/N:** not so happy with this chapter. idk, it was hard to write and I feel like it's kind of just filler. I'm really sorry.)

It was easy for Matt and Al to sneak past Francine and Arthur. They were still in the dining room, not-so-calmly discussing Arthur's 'side-job.' They got into Al's car, and Al sped the entire way to Portland.

Once they were there, they stopped at a place to eat. They decided on McDonald's, and they were happy to have a meal that wasn't being eaten awkwardly with their divorced parents. "Jesus Christ, Matt, we haven't had a brother's day out in forever." Al said, his mouth full of burger. Matt nodded and swallowed his mouthful of chicken nuggets. "It's kind of beautiful what the desire to get away from our family can do." Matt said. Al laughed, and they finished eating while having a conversation about their last brother's day out (which ended up with them being escorted home by a cop after breaking curfew.)

Once they had finished eating, the twins walked outside. They quickly got back into Al's car, and drove back onto the highway. After a while, they started coming up with ideas about what they'd do for the day. "Well, there's lots of museums we could go to," Matt suggested, but Al quickly shot it down. "Boring! What do you do in Portland when you come up?" He asked. "Well, I hang out with Mathias and Lukas-" Matt started, but Al cut him off. "Oh, yeah, you do drugs. We need something family friendly to do."

The two were silent for a moment, but when Al passed a billboard with an advertisement for the Oregon Zoo, they both looked at each other. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, bro?" Al asked. "If you mean that we go to the zoo, then fuck yeah I am." Matt replied. Al smirked, and exclaimed, "To the zoo!" before doing a probably life-threatening traffic maneuver that put them on the exit that lead to the zoo.

They got to the zoo right as it opened, and several of the workers looked on in concern. They didn't see two 18 year old men coming to the zoo in the middle of February all that often. Al and Matt shook off the looks, and continued acting like kids in candy shops. "Let's go see the polar bears first!" Matt exclaimed, but Al shook his head. "No, Matt, we have to follow the map. We'll see everything a lot better that way." Several families passed by them and stared, but Matt and Al could care less.

They eventually decided to start at the beginning of the zoo and see everything they could(which would probably end up being a lot, considering the zoo didn't close for another 7 hours.) Al had a small freakout when they reached the eagles early on in their day, and Matt had a similar one about an hour later when they reached the polar bears. Once they had finished the first two exhibits, they sat down for a break, and Matt checked his phone.

He had two new messages; one from Tim, and one from Mathias. He clicked the one from Mathias first, since it was more recent, and laughed when he saw what it said. _I'm dragging Lukas to the zoo, lmao. Come with us so he doesn't push me into a tiger cage?_ He showed the text to Al. "So your pothead friends are coming too? Hell yeah, maybe we can hang out with them after we leave so we don't have to go home!" he cheered, and Matt quickly typed back a reply. _I'm already at the zoo. What are the odds of that! Are you here yet?_

A few seconds later, he got a reply. _We're fucking telekinetic or something, bro. we're parking now. Where are you?_ Mathias sent. Matt typed back _polar bears,_ and locked his phone. "I told you earlier, Al. Beautiful things come out of avoiding your family. We've got brother bonding time at the zoo, and now we won't look as pathetic." He sighed, leaning back on the bench. "And just how are we pathetic?" Al asked accusingly. "Al. We're 18. We snuck away from home, and went to a zoo." Matt replied flatly. "Okay, so maybe we're a _little_ pathetic, but still-"

Al was cut off by Mathias yelling Matt's name. "Oh, hey!" Matt yelled back, and turned to see a giddy looking Mathias and a pissed off Lukas bounding towards them. (The pair tended to look like this a lot, actually.) Mathias pulled Matt into a bone crushing hug, and Lukas nodded at him. "I'm glad you're here, Mattie! We haven't had a good bro-date in a while." Mathias smiled, and Lukas looked at him. "Don't call it a bro-date, Mathias." Mathias laughed and rolled his eyes, turning to look to look at Al.

"So, is this your brother?" He asked. "Yeah. Alfred." Matt said, and hoped inwardly that Mathias and Lukas were on one of their 'off' stages. If Al found out Matt's only 2 friends were gay with each other, it'd make the entire day awkward, and not to mention, it would raise questions about Matt's own sexuality, and then everything in his household would be awkward. Matt couldn't handle that.

Thankfully, they seemed to be off. Maybe Mathias was planning on winning Lukas back by taking him to the zoo? The pissed off look on Lukas's face probably meant that Mathias probably would be sleeping on the couch for at least a few more weeks. But Matt didn't worry; he knew that the two lovebirds would be back together soon.

"Well it's great to meet you, Alfred." Mathias grinned. "Likewise," Lukas nodded. Mathias turned to Lukas and gave him an annoyed look. "Why do you talk like you're in the fucking Victorian age, Luke?" He asked. "Why do you call me Luke?" Lukas said, giving an equally annoyed look. Wanting to avoid a fight, Matt decided to mediate between the two. "Who cares about words, when we can go see some cute animals?" he asked, and Mathias lit up. "You're right, Matt! Let's get this shit started!" he exclaimed, and pulled Lukas towards the next exhibit: animals of Asia.

Matt laughed and helped Alfred up from the bench. This was going to be an interesting day.


	10. Chapter 10

After they left the zoo, Matt, Al, Mathias and Lukas all gathered in Lukas's apartment. Mathias and Al were on the floor playing Xbox, and Lukas sat beside Matt on the couch. He was reading a Norwegian book about Paganism, and he and Matt were passing a cigarette back and forth. "Matt! Give me a drag." Matthias asked, and Matt stretched to hand it to him. As he did so, his phone fell out of his hoodie pocket, and he saw he had a new message.

_Do you want to come over, though?_ He had asked. Matt had a small heart attack when he remembered that Tim had texted him this morning and he never texted back. That Tim had asked him to come over yesterday. That Tim had promised him kisses if he came over. He scrolled up to see what Tim had said earlier in the day. _Haha, well I don't mind if you spend the day here._ He had sent it at 9:30 AM. Oops.

_I'm so sorry I didn't text back- I went with my brother and some friends to the zoo. :l _Matt typed and hit send, and he was glad Al wasn't near enough to see who he was texting. Lukas was the only one close enough to see his phone, but Matt didn't really care about him seeing. He and Lukas were tight, even though he tended to hang out with Matthias more. Lukas was pretty much the only person in the world besides Tim and Ivan that knew Matt was gay, and Matt knew that he wouldn't give two shits either way if he happened to glance over and Matt was talking to the teacher he sometimes fucked.

Matt's phone buzzed. _Aren't you like, 18?_ Matt rolled his eyes at Tim's text. _Yeah, so is my twin brother. My friends are both 22. The zoo's fucking great. Fight me._ He sent. _Hey, I'm not knocking the zoo. I just can't believe you chose to go to the zoo lmao._ Matt went to send something snarky back, but he got another text from Tim almost immediately after receiving the first. _Sorry that sounded a lot bitchier than I meant it too. You're fucking adorable, Matt._

Matt felt his face go red. Adorable? Tim had called Matt hot quite a bit in their (very brief) time together, but not anything like adorable. (Well, he called him 'beautiful' the day before, but Matt chose not to count that, considering he was covered in cum at the time.) He felt his heart speed up a bit, and replied the only way he knew how to: _stfu loser no I'm not._

_Aw, Mattie's being modest! You're too cute._ Tim sent back. Matt rolled his eyes, but blushed a bit deeper. _Not being modest, I'm being truthful._ He sent back. Matt was definitely the type to vehemently deny all compliments. He felt his phone vibrate again, but before he could check it, Al stood up. He quickly locked his screen and looked at his brother. "It was really sweet hanging out with you guys. It's nice to know the people my bro hangs out with aren't total freaks. But me and Matt really should get home, Mom and Dad have probably killed each other by now." He announced.

"Fuck that, I'm not going home. Dad's just gonna bitch at us for leaving him alone with Mom, and Mom's just gonna do drugs." Matt said flatly, not even turning to look at Al. Matthias perked up when he heard the word 'drugs.' "Sit down, son, they aren't the kind of drugs you do." Matt snapped at him, and Matthias went back to his game. "But. Maaattttt." Al whined, and pouted at his brother. "Al, that never works. Ever." Matt said, but Al didn't stop. "If you let me stay, I'll let you copy my English for the rest of the year," Matt offered, and Al immediately stiffened his upper lip. "Okay, so I'll tell Dad you stayed with your hooligan friends, should I tell Mom the same?" Al said, and quickly left the apartment alone. Matt smirked; he knew exactly how to manipulate Al.

Once Al was out of the apartment, Matt quickly pulled his phone back out to see what Tim had sent. _Whatever, Matt, you're gorgeous. _Matt nearly dropped his phone, and he could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, and he could feel nearly all the blood in his body rush to his face. He felt like a school-girl with a crush, but he didn't even care. No one, not even Ivan, who showered him with compliments in the 2 weeks he spent with him, had ever called Matt gorgeous. Matt vaguely realized he shouldn't let himself develop a crush on his fuckbuddy, but he didn't even care. Tim had called him _gorgeous._

He didn't realize he had been making a scene, until Lukas cleared his throat. Matt quickly snapped to attention, and tried to cover his face that was surely as red as the Danish flag hanging behind his head. Lukas smirked, and picked up his keys from the coffee table. He chucked them at Matthias's back, and Matthias let out a groan in pain. "What the actual hell, Lukas?" He asked, and paused his game. "Go get us all something to eat. Something decent, too. Not fucking McDonald's."

Matthias grumbled and picked up the keys. "I don't even have an American license. What if I get pulled over?" he asked and stood up. "You shouldn't be living illegally in the US, then. Don't do anything stupid and you'll be fine." Lukas said, and gave Matthias a harsh look. "Jeez, okay. I'll go to the Italian place up the street, is that fine?" Matthias muttered, and waited for Lukas to nod. He gave Lukas a quick kiss on the top of his head as he left, and Matt could tell by the look on his face he was happy he managed to get away with it without Lukas causing him bodily harm.

Once Matthias had gone, Matt let out a laugh. "You have him whipped, Lukas." Lukas smiled. "Oh, I know I do. I just wish I could whip his asshole tendencies out of him." He said softly. "Yeah, but you know you love him," Matt teased, and Lukas rolled his eyes. "Speaking of love, I kicked Matthias out to talk to you. Who's got you in such a bind?" he asked.

Matt immediately felt himself blush again. Lukas had definitely noticed his freakout over Tim- whom Matt definitely didn't text back. He took a moment to type out, _Do you mean that?_ and send it before he turned back to Lukas. "Nothing escapes you, Lukas." Matt sighed, and looked at his phone. "His name's Tim. We're, uh, fuckbuddies." Matt said softly. "And, let me guess, you want to be more than fuckbuddies?" Lukas asked, giving him knowing look. "Well, I mean, I guess I wouldn't mind being more than fuckbuddies. I've had a crush on him for a while. But we've only been fucking since like, yesterday, I have no idea how he feels about me. And, uh, things are kind of complicated." Matt replied.

"You couldn't possibly be more complicated than Matthias and I. We've been together for nearly 6 years and I spent half the time hating him. Even now that I actually lo-" Lukas cut himself off. "Even now that I actually care for him, it's complicated. But I wouldn't give it up." "Yeah, he did say you threatened to push him into a tiger cage today," Matt laughed. "That wasn't technically a verbal threat, he just assumed that. But enough about me. Look, there's no way something can be complicated enough for you not to go for it. If you take any advice from me, let it be that." Lukas said.

"Yeah, but the thing is, our relationship is like, borderline illegal." Matt said, hoping he wouldn't have to elaborate. "Yeah, and my relationship is with an illegal, so close enough. My advice is to just go for it. You can't have an emotionally satisfying friends-with-benefits relationship. Even if you don't know how you feel, yet, a misguided relationship is a lot better than just a fuckbuddy. Slip yourself one of my Adderall before you do it, if you have to, but I say do it. Or if you'd like, I could do one of my spells-" Matt cut Lukas off. "No thanks, no Pagan magic tonight. Or Adderall. I'd rather just let it come naturally." He said.

"I'll take you to his house once Matthias gets back. I'm getting the vibe that you want to go see him." Lukas said, and Matt nodded. After that, it was quiet, and Matt felt his phone vibrate. He vaguely noticed Lukas looking at him as he checked it, but he ignored him. _Yeah, I do._ Matt smiled, and typed back,_ So does the offer still stand for me to come over?_ Within seconds, Tim replied. _That offer always stands. _Matt felt his smile grow bigger. _Great, my friend Lukas said he'd take me in a bit, once his boyfriend gets back. I'll be there within the hour._

Matt heard the door open, and turned to see Matthias carrying an armful of bags. "Sorry, Matt, I couldn't afford to get you your own meal, but these are so damn big, it wouldn't hurt to share." He said, closing the door behind him. "Actually, I was going to drive Matt home. His brother guilted him into going back." Lukas said, and Matt was thankful he didn't spill that he was driving him to his gay lover's house. Matthias didn't know Matt was gay, and Matt was more comfortable with as little people knowing he was as possible.

"Well that means we get to have a romantic dinner then, Lukas." Matthias beamed, and Lukas glared at him, though Matt thought he saw his face turn a little bit redder. Lukas grabbed the keys from Matthias, and he and Matt left the apartment. They quickly made their way down the stairs and got into Lukas's care before the cold air could affect them much.

Lukas scowled when he turned on the car and noticed that Matthias had changed the radio to the local indie channel. "My boyfriend's a fucking hipster." He groaned, and changed it to his usual channel, the one that played black metal. Car rides with Lukas were a trip; they were silent, but not awkwardly so, and he always had this serious look on his face while the radio played Dimmu Borgir. (Lukas was a clean cut guy. He was majoring in Dentistry, for Christ's sake. Matt was really surprised when he found out he was a Pagan black metal enthusiast with a minor in Medieval and Renaissance studies.)

Lukas asked where Tim lived, and Matt told him, feeling his heart starting to race. He checked his phone and noticed Tim had texted back. _Great._ He said, and Matt texted back, _I'm on my way now._ The ride didn't take long, and Lukas had Matt back in his city limits within a few minutes. He got lost a few times trying to find Maple Drive, but once he had found it, Matt's heart was beating fast enough to jump out of his chest. He remembered what Lukas said, about how he should step things up with Tim, about how he couldn't be satisfied with a fuckbuddy, and he nervously decided he would talk to Tim about it.

Lukas pulled into Tim's driveway, and looked at Matt. "Remember what I said. I like you, Matt, and I think you deserve a lot more than a fuckbuddy. They're emotionally damaging. If he rejects you, call me and I'll come get you, and we can curse the shit out of him when we get back to my apartment." Matt nodded, and opened the door. "Thanks, Lukas. Enjoy your romantic dinner with Matthias," Matt teased, and shut the door on Lukas's glare. As he walked up to Tim's door, Matt decided he was going to take Lukas's advice. "Here goes nothing," he said softly. He took in a deep breath, and knocked on Tim's door.


	11. Chapter 11

Tim answered after a moment. "Hey," he said softly and smiled, and looked at Lukas's car. "You brought your friend to my house?" he asked, his voice turning serious. "He doesn't know you're my teacher. He wouldn't care, anyways, his boyfriend is an illegal Danish immigrant." Matt laughed. "He's giving me this weird look," Tim said, making eye contact with Lukas. "He gives everyone that look. Come on, let's just go inside." Matt said, and Tim nodded. They both entered his house, and Matt heard Lukas pull out of the driveway.

"So, I'm actually out of Dutch Treat. The dude who wanted to buy the ounce off me ended up buying me out. My plant isn't quite grown yet, but my Chernobyl strain is pretty good too." Tim said once they were in. "Uh, no thanks. I smoked a bit with Lukas before we left," Matt lied. If he wanted to tell Tim about what Lukas said, he wanted to be able to do it naturally. "He drove you here high? That's not safe. He could have hurt you." Tim said with concern. "He drives high all the time, he's pretty good at it." Matt said. That was the truth, Lukas was the best high-driver he had ever seen. "Remind me to watch out in Portland, then." Tim muttered as he walked to his Box of Wonders.

Tim pulled out a blunt, and gestured for Matt to sit. Matt nodded, and the two sat on the couch while Tim smoked. Matt didn't like the way Chernobyl smelled, it smelled like it was almost spicy. He was glad he didn't smoke. Matt quietly watched TV, glad to see it wasn't another Snuggie infomercial, and waited for Tim to finish his blunt. Once he finished and half of it, he ashed it and turned to look at Matt. His eyes were glassy, heavy, and red, and he was smiling an open mouth smile. "Good stuff?" Matt asked. "I don't know why I don't smoke Chernobyl more. It's like there's a nuclear meltdown, in my brain, and the Soviet government is totally ignoring it." Tim said. Matt stifled his laughter. He loved being sober when other people were high.

"Well don't worry, Geiger counters in Sweden will be going off soon." Matt laughed, and went back to the TV. Now would probably be the easiest time to ask Tim about what Lukas had said, but he still hesitated. What would he even say to him? 'My kind of crazy Norwegian friend said it's emotionally damaging to be friends with benefits with someone, even though his relationship is probably the craziest thing in the entire world?' He decided to just cut the shit, and turned to ask Tim, but Tim started talking first.

"Matt. Do you know when Game of Thrones comes back on?" Tim asked. "Uh, April 6th, I think." Matt said. "Fucking sweet. Matt. Do you know which animals are the coolest?" Tim asked again, and Matt groaned. Chernobyl was apparently a strain that made you talkative. "What, Tim?" He asked. "Sharks, man. Fucking sharks. They swim around in the ocean, and they eat all kinds of fish. And their teeth grow back after they lose them. I lost a tooth once and the dentist had to give me a fake one… Matt, did you know Great White sharks can get up to 4 meters long? I had a friend from Iceland once who used to eat Greenland sharks, but they're poisonous so he had to let them get rotten first… he was fucking weird. Icelanders are weird." Tim looked as if he wanted to go on, but he stopped. "Sorry, I was about to get really prejudiced against Icelanders."

"My friend who brought me here's brother lives in Iceland." Matt said, looking at Tim. "Maybe they're the same people." Tim said, and Matt laughed. "There's about 300,000 people in Iceland, Tim." He said, but Tim pressed on. "Is his name Emil Bondevik?" Tim asked, and Matt's eyes went wide. "Yeah, actually. That's fucking eerie. It's a small world." Matt said. "No, the world's big. Europe's just tiny. I thought your friend looked familiar." Tim giggled. He suddenly stopped, and looked at Matt. "Matt. Kiss me."

Matt's face went a little red, and he nodded. He leaned closer to Tim, and Tim leaned into him, and their lips met softly. The kiss started out slow, but soon Matt felt Tim's tongue begging for entry. He quickly gave it, opening his mouth and feeling their tongues press together. It was over all too quickly, and Matt pouted when Tim pulled away. The older man quickly made him smile by pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I don't even care about fucking you, Matt, I could totally get by just with kissing you." Matt smiled when Tim said this, and decided he'd bring up what Lukas said now.

"Lukas says fucking is emotionally damaging anyways," Matt hummed. He felt that Tim had laid his head on his shoulder, and he tensed a bit. "And what's that supposed to mean? I love to fuck." Tim said softly. "I definitely agree, but Lukas said it was bad to just fuck people with no attachment. And I agree with him, too." Matt said, forcing himself to relax a little. He didn't think that Tim would reject him, he didn't need to be so nervous. "Oh, I agree too. I thought you meant he was one of those crazy Tumblr dudes who think all sex is rape or something." Tim yawned a bit. "Sorry, Chernobyl makes you sleepy. But I think I get what you're trying to say."

Matt's heart was beating fast. "You do?" he asked. "Yeah. You don't want to just fuck, you want more. And I totally feel you. I would have asked you when we fucked but that was kind of a crazy time. And I'm stoned as fuck right now, but I'll do anything to be close to you, Matt. I want attachment. So let's fucking be attached, or date, or, fuck, if you want I'll drive us up to Washington right now and we can get fucking married." Tim ranted sleepily. "Uh, no marriage, but, I think dating is a good place to start?" Matt asked, smiling. He actually did it. "Damn, I've always wanted to get gay married… But okay. Wake me up when Game of Thrones comes on, boyfriend." Tim mumbled, and closed his eyes.

"Wait, do you mean a rerun or April 6th?" Matt asked, confused. He should have smoked, that would have made it a lot easier to understand Tim, who was already asleep on Matt's shoulder. Oh well. He was confused, but happy. Tim had called him his boyfriend. Matt finally had a boyfriend. He pulled out his phone, careful not to disturb Tim, and opened up his messages. He typed a quick one out to Lukas. _No need to cast any magic tonight. He's my boyfriend now. PS, he knows your brother._ He grinned and hit send. Tonight was a great night, and he wasn't even high.


	12. Chapter 12

(**A/N:** Long chapter to apologize for the wait! I've kinda been avoiding my homework to write this, so I had to take a few days off and do like, 8 chapters of AP US History. I hope you enjoy!)

Matt was nodding off himself by the time he felt Tim shift beside him. "Mmm, you're still here." Tim mumbled sleepily, and Matt felt arms wrap around his waist. Matt tensed and blushed, and Tim pressed a kiss to his neck. "Of course I am, where would I go?" he asked, hoping Tim wouldn't notice how red he was. "Out from underneath my heavy ass," Tim laughed, and lifted his head. He turned to Matt, and his green eyes met Matt's blue ones. Matt smiled, and Tim leaned in for a kiss. Matt quickly closed the distance between them, and their lips met. The kiss was soft and chaste, and Matt felt himself wanting more after Tim pulled away.

"We should go out. There's nothing to do here but smoke," Tim hummed, resting his head back on Matt's shoulder. "Smoking's always so fun though," Matt laughed, and he heard Tim chuckle beside him. "We've already smoked though. Besides, isn't that what couples do?" He asked, and Matt took in a sharp breath. Couple? "Y-yeah, I guess." He mumbled. He honestly half thought Tim wouldn't remember what he said earlier, even though Matt knew marijuana didn't work like that.

"Why that face? What, did you think I wouldn't remember?" Tim teased, and kissed Matt's cheek. "Maybe a little bit," Matt said softly, blushing softly. "How could I forget that I'm dating someone like you?" Tim smiled, and placed another kiss to his cheek. Matt smiled and turned to face him. "I don't know, I just thought it might have been the drugs talking," Matt pressed a kiss to Tim's lips. "Never. I knew exactly what I was saying." Tim smiled, and put his forehead to Matt's. "So, we're like, boyfriends?" Matt asked, giggling a bit. "You sound like a school girl, Matt, oh my god," Tim laughed. "But, yeah. We're boyfriends."

Matt grinned, and broke eye contact with Tim. He blushed deeply, and he giggled a bit more. "I can't believe I'm dating the sexy Mr. Van Der Heide. If the girls at school knew this, they'd slit my throat," he laughed, and pulled away from Tim a bit. "God, don't remind me about the girls. I swear, next year I'm going to write, 'I'm gay!' on the board in big, rainbow letters on the first day. They say the weirdest things to me. One of my freshmen told me I had 'such good fashion taste.' Like, thanks. I match black pants with a white shirt and wear a tie." Tim complained, and Matt stifled a laugh.

"Good luck not getting fired. When I was a sophomore, this guy got expelled for wearing a skirt." Matt laughed. He liked the guy, his name was Feliks. He and his boyfriend, Toris, were in his math class that year, and Toris always let Matt copy his homework. He didn't come out to them, but he felt like they suspected he was gay. Feliks complained about the school's actions on Tumblr and the school got a lot of backlash from pretty much all over the world, so they didn't punish gay students so harshly anymore, and he was allowed to come back to school. A gay teacher was a totally different story, though.

Tim stared at Matt, wide eyed. "America is really fucking weird. I had all kinds of gay teachers in high school, and no one gave a shit, and there were tons of gay kids. Hell, my brother and I were huge gays, and nobody even said anything." He said. "I didn't know you had a brother," Matt replied, and Tim laughed. "Uh, yeah. My sister and I, we don't really talk about him too much. He does some illegal shit in Luxembourg now. He's making a_ lot_ of money, but he does something a hell of a lot worse than growing pot." Tim laughed. Matt wanted to ask what he meant, but decided that that probably wasn't a good first date topic, and the room settled into silence again.

"So, yeah. We kind of went on a tangent there, but we should go somewhere." Matt spoke up after a few minutes. "Great, just let me change out of these sweatpants." Tim laughed and stood up, and Matt felt terribly lonely without Tim's arm around his waist. He stood up, and the two went upstairs to Tim's bedroom. "So where do you want to go? We obviously can't go anywhere in town, and probably not Portland, since we'd risk someone seeing us." Tim said as he pulled off his sweatpants. He stood in his closet in his boxers. "We can go wherever you want," Matt replied. "Ugh, Matt, don't do that. I literally don't know any place outside of this town and I don't want to just drive around until we find something, because then what if we want to go somewhere nice and I'm in jeans?" Tim groaned.

"Oh my god, Tim. That was the gayest thing I've ever heard anyone say. Ever." Matt laughed. "I don't care how gay I sound, pick somewhere to go." Tim grumbled. "Uh, fine. There's this really nice restaurant in Vancouver-" Matt started, but was cut off by Tim. "I really do like you, Matt, and I want to go out somewhere with you, but I'm not going to Canada." He asked, and Matt glared at him and picked up where he was cut off. "There's a really nice restaurant in Vancouver, Washington, just across the river from Portland. It's like 20 minutes away." He finished. "Oh, sorry. I, uh, guess I'll put on slacks." Tim said, and changed into slacks and a dress shirt.

Matt, however, was still in his zoo clothes: his red hoodie and jeans. He looked down at his clothes, then back to Tim, and smiled expectantly. "You've been my boyfriend for like, 2 hours and you're already taking my clothes. Jesus, Matt." Tim sighed and went back to his closet. "How tall are you?" Tim hummed as he looked through his closet for something for Matt to wear. "Five foot eleven." Matt replied, leaning on Tim's bed. "Well, great. That means nothing to me. Do you happen to know your height in centimeters?" Tim asked, and Matt laughed. "Psh, no. Centimeters are for commies!" Matt exclaimed, but calmed himself down once he realized he _was_ a communist. "Sorry, I spent the whole day with my brother. He's rubbed off on me. I'll, uh, Google it."

Matt quickly looked it up. "180 centimeters." He told Tim, and Tim quickly pulled out a pair of black dress pants for him. "Great, you're just a few centimeters shorter than me. These are short on me, so they should fit you perfectly. Any preference on shirt color?" He asked, and Matt shook his head. "Well, I think red's a pretty great color on you. If it isn't too communist, I mean." Tim teased and pulled out a red dress shirt. "Fuck off, Tim, I'm Marxist and you know it." Matt grumbled, and grabbed the red shirt from Tim's hand. He quickly stripped out of his zoo clothes, and as he stepped into the slacks, he noticed Tim staring.

"Oh, and you teased me for staring at you yesterday," Matt said, and put the shirt on. "Hey, tease me all you want, you've got a great body. I don't know how I didn't notice. How did you get that muscle?" Tim asked, and walked towards Matt. He didn't stop until Matt could feel his breath on his ear. "I, uh, played hockey until junior year. I was captain. Then I started smoking weed, and the school drug tests their athletes, and I decided I liked the pot better than the puck. Well, okay, that's a lie, hockey is pretty much my life, but the school's team sucked and the players were all assholes and it totally collapsed without me." Matt stuttered, rambling a bit as he felt Tim's body press against his. Too soon, he had pulled away, and Matt whined at the loss of contact.

"Mmm. I used to play too, in the Netherlands. We should play together sometime." Tim said, and threw Matt a pair of nice shoes, hoping they wore the same size. Matt pulled them on, and luckily, they did. Now that they were both dressed, Tim went to the bathroom to quickly style his hair in his normal spikey style. Matt ran his fingers through his hair, and deemed himself acceptable. "We should play together. I'd love to see you on the ice," Matt said as they walked down his stairs and towards Tim's Volkswagen. Tim reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to give Matt a strange look. "What do you mean, ice?" he asked.

Matt was confused for a moment, but then it clicked in his mind what Tim meant. "Oh, please don't tell me you played the pussy version of hockey." He groaned. If there was anything Matt hated in this world, it was field hockey. "Hockey isn't for pussies!" Tim tried to defend himself. Matt walked down to Tim, and looked him in the eyes. "You're right. Hockey isn't for pussies. Field hockey is, though." He said. "That's what I thought you meant when you said you played hockey. Nobody refers to ice hockey as just hockey! Field hockey is always just hockey!" Tim exclaimed, and walked towards the garage. Matt followed him, still bitching about field hockey.

"Everyone calls ice hockey just hockey. Everyone but Western Europe, because my dad does it too. But Mathias and Lukas and Ivan and Emil would never call field hockey, hockey." Matt grumbled as he got into Tim's car. "Tell me how you really feel, babe." Tim laughed and started the car. He backed out of his driveway, and Matt's pout lessened a bit. "So, where are these friends from in Europe that they don't call field hockey, hockey? I know that Emil is from Iceland, obviously, but how about the rest?" Tim asked as they started to drive, trying to make the ride less silent than it had been the last few times. Matt thought back to the list of people he had named, and recalled where they were from.

"Well Mathias is Danish. And he's really proud to be Danish. Lukas is Norwegian, which is weird, because Emil is from Iceland. I guess their mom got around a lot or something. And, uh. Ivan. Oh. I don't know exactly where he's from. He was born in the Soviet Union. I'm pretty sure he's Russian but I don't even know." Matt said. "How old is this dude anyways? The Soviet Union collapsed before I was born, and I'm 22. Get friends your own age." Tim laughed and pulled onto the highway. "26, I think? I don't know, I never got to close with him. But I know for sure he would kick someone's ass if they said field hockey was the real hockey." Matt said, bringing back the field hockey debate.

"Really not gonna let that go, are you?" Tim asked, noting a sign that said the next exit led to Vancouver. Matt shook his head defiantly. "Wait, how did you even meet a dude from the Soviet Union anyways? An affluent family like yours doesn't seem like it'd be in Russia for any reason." Tim asked as he took the exit, and Matt panicked for a bit.

He had lost his virginity to Ivan 2 years ago on vacation in Vancouver. It was pretty stereotypical, honestly. There was Matt: 16, unsure of his sexuality. Before he went to Vancouver, he had been trying to convince himself he liked girls, even a little bit. He had been avoiding any sort of male contact, he had even stopped changing in front of his teammates. And then there was Ivan: the hot, older, foreign lifeguard. Matt found that lots of guys were coming onto him in Vancouver, but when he saw Ivan, shirtless, lounging by the pool the first day he was there, he knew right away that there was no part of him that could ever like girls.

Ivan could tell that Matt had a thing for him right away. It wasn't like Matt tried to hide that he was staring at him, or that he only swam when Ivan was there. Ivan approached him after a week, and asked, quite bluntly, if Matt was interested in guys. Matt somehow managed to stammer out that he was, and that he was interested in Ivan, and then Matt started to sneak out of the hotel room at night to go to seedy bars with Ivan, or make out with Ivan in his truck, or (on one glorious night) skinny dip with Ivan. The last week Matt was in Vancouver, Ivan convinced him to sleep with him.

The first time they slept together, things were kind of awkward. Matt decided he wanted to bottom, since that seemed easier for a virgin to do. However, once the two had stripped off their clothes in the back of Ivan's truck, and Matt had went to suck him off (that's what the guys in the porn he had been watching- purely for educational reasons- had done,) and Matt realized that Ivan was bigger than Mother Russia itself, things started to get hard, no pun intended. Matt struggled through a blowjob, and he swore there was still a bit of gravel lodged in his knees from the back of Ivan's dirty ass truck. Ivan was too embarrassed to buy lube, and Matt couldn't buy any at such short notice, so the only sort of slickness Ivan had was the minimal amount of lube on the free condoms Ivan got from the health department, which were definitely not designed for anal sex.

It hurt so bad that Matt cried. This made Ivan cry, and ramble in a mix of Russian and English that he had never topped before, and he didn't mean to hurt Matt, that he didn't _like_ hurting people. Matt had to force himself to relax and stop crying enough to comfort Ivan, with a dick still in his ass. They both managed to calm down enough to continue on with the sex, and once Matt got used to the feeling of being stretched, he found it somewhat enjoyable. Ivan found his prostate easily, and whenever he struck it, Matt saw stars and felt pleasure he had never felt before. It ended with them cuddling in the bed of Ivan's truck until Matt had to scramble back to the hotel room he was sharing with Alfred at 5 AM.

A few days later, when they had sex again, Matt topped. He fumbled around a bit, but luckily there was lubrication involved this time, and there weren't any tears shed. It took a moment of awkward thrusting for him to find a rhythm, and a _lot_ of searching until he found his prostate (Ivan actually ended up just riding Matt,) but this night seemed a lot more fruitful than the last.

The next, and last, time they had sex, was the last day Matt was in Vancouver. Matt was bottoming again, but he found that when Ivan used lube, the feeling of being filled was much more pleasurable. And the way Ivan was responding, Matt was sure he was getting a lot more pleasure out of it too. They both came at the same time (which was, admittedly, kind of early,) and Matt stayed in the hotel room Ivan had rented (he wanted their last time to be special, and not in the bed of a pickup truck,) until the sun rose and Al called him asking where he was. He answered that he had taken a morning swim, and the two laughed softly at the stupid joke.

Of course, nothing came out of the relationship. They had exchanged phone numbers, and Matt had promised to come back up to Vancouver when he got his license, but he ended up never getting his license and never going back to British Columbia (though he did come close to inviting Ivan to a Calgary Flames game with him when he was in Alberta.) Ivan would still text him from time to time, wondering how life was, and asking if he was going to ever come back to Vancouver. The last time Ivan had talked to him, he had told Matt that he had moved to Quebec and had started working as a Royal Mounted Police Officer. That was right after Matt had quit playing hockey and started smoking pot all the time, and Matt decided he didn't need to be talking to a Canadian-Russian cop, and cut contact with him, but he still remembered his few weeks in Vancouver fondly.

"Matt? You still there?" Tim asked, shaking Matt's shoulder lightly. Matt jumped a bit, startled out of his thoughts. "Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry. What were you saying?" He asked, shaking his head slightly, trying to remember what they had been talking about. "Well, I asked who Ivan was, then you didn't respond, so I was trying to make small talk, but you've just been gone for like 10 minutes. You okay?" Tim asked, his voice sounding slightly concerned. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Sorry, I smoke too much, I've lost too many brain cells." Matt laughed, then realized that Tim had asked about Ivan. "I met Ivan on vacation in Canada. We kind of fucked around for a bit and now he's a Mountie." He replied, and Tim looked confused. "I thought you said he was Russian? Oh, and type in that restaurant on my GPS."

Matt quickly typed the restaurant's address in. He ate there a lot; whenever Lukas could manage to scam some freshman into buying a shit-ton of Adderall, he'd take him and Mathias out to eat there with the boatload of money he'd get. "I don't think he's Russian anymore. He moved to Canada. I don't blame him, honestly, I'd love to move to Canada." Matt said, and Tim laughed. "Should I be worried about you running off and marrying this dude for Canadian citizenship?" he joked, and Matt noticed they were pretty close to the restaurant.

"Nah, I couldn't marry a cop. I'd have to stop smoking." Matt laughed, and Tim laughed back. "Hey, if you marry me you can get Dutch citizenship, and smoke whenever you want." They were on the street of the restaurant now, and Tim parked a few blocks away from it. Tim got out of the car, and walked around to let Matt out like a perfect gentlemen. "That's like, the third marriage joke you've made tonight, Tim. You're thirsty as hell." Matt couldn't help but laugh when Tim shot him a look. "I'm not thirsty. I just like you, and I have since I first saw you." Tim said, getting serious. The two started walking towards the restaurant, and Matt jumped when he felt Tim's hand touch his. He stopped walking and looked to Tim to protest. "But what if someone-"

"Since we're in a different state and all, I'm sure it wouldn't hurt if we held hands, just for tonight. I'm sure no one will see." Tim cut him off, and turned to him. He intertwined his fingers with Matt's, and smiled at him. This caused Matt to smile back, and turn a little red. "In fact, I bet I could do this," Tim leaned down slightly and pressed a soft kiss to Matt's lips, "And not a soul would care." Both of them smiled a bit bigger, and Matt looked around. Tim was right; there were plenty of people walking around them, and not a soul stopped to look at them. Tim squeezed Matt's hand slightly, and started walking again. "Come on, let's go eat."


	13. Chapter 13

(**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait, again! I decided I was going to watch two seasons of Sherlock, then I watched 2 seasons of Supernatural... So I was kind of distracted. Hopefully the smut makes up for the long wait and the lack of me actually describing Tim and Matt's date.)

"I just can't believe you made me eat French food, Matt. My poor Dutch mother would probably have a heart attack." Tim complained as they walked back to his Volkswagen after their meal. "And I honestly couldn't justify spending 50 dollars on one meal." He kept complaining when Matt didn't reply, and Matt turned to give him a cynical look. "I offered to pay for you, Tim. You just had to go Dutch." He said, and snickered a bit at his joke. Tim's look mirrored Matt's, and he fake-laughed. "Haha, very funny. Matthew Kirkland is a comedian." He said, and they got to his car. Tim opened the door for Matt, and then got in himself.

Once Tim was settled in, he reached for Matt's hand and intertwined his fingers with Matt's. He turned his keys and leaned in a bit closer to Matt. "Honestly, that was probably the best damn food I've ever had. Don't tell my family." He said, and Matt laughed as they got back onto the road. "So, anywhere else you want to go to?" Tim asked, and Matt shook his head. "Let's just get back to your house. It's almost 11 o' clock." Matt said, and Tim nodded. Soon, they were on the highway headed back to his house, and Matt found himself gripping Tim's hand. Their first real date was great, and he was happy.

They arrived at Tim's house relatively quickly after a quiet car ride, and Matt found himself and Tim on Tim's couch, cuddled up, passing a wine bottle between themselves. "See, I don't know why we even went out to that French restaurant. We could have stayed home and saved like 100 dollars. This wine is like a little taste of France," Tim said, his face slightly flushed with alcohol in his bloodstream, and Matt giggled. "Yeah, but I never had any 15 dollar wine when I went to France," he giggled a bit more, and Tim gave him a look. "You're like, 12, Matt, how could you even legally get alcohol?" he scoffed, and Matt giggled again. He didn't drink enough to notice how much of a giggly drunk he was (or how much of a lightweight he was.)

"Because, like, my mom is so irresponsible she let her 7 year old twins get sloshed on wine," Matt chuckled, and took another sip from the bottle. Truth be told, that was probably the reason he didn't drink much. He and Al nearly puked their guts up after Francine had let them have a glass (or 3) of wine when they were in France for their grandmother's funeral. Arthur came back a few hours later to find his wife 'irreconcilably mourning' on the couch (Matt figured out a few years later that 'irreconcilably mourning' was a nicer term for, 'borderline overdosed on heroin and drunk on expensive wine,') and his two sons were hungover and puking, and he nearly had a heart attack. Matt and Alfred weren't left with Francine after that, and Matt felt the urge to puke whenever he was dragged along to Mass by his mother, and he had to drink the wine. But the cheap liquid he was passing back to Tim? It didn't seem to bother him. Maybe because Matt half suspected Tim had just put vodka in grape juice and called it wine to please his half-French lover, or maybe because he was drunk and in love.

Matt smiled as he felt the warmth start to flow through his body. Though he didn't like to drink, he loved the warmth that always coursed through him whenever he did. He looked over to Tim and saw his head tilted back as he took a gulp of the wine, and Matt laid his head on Tim's shoulder. He felt Tim's head rest against his, and he barely noticed when he started nodding off.

Several hours later, Matt woke up in Tim's bed, wrapped in his bedsheets, with Tim's arm laying underneath his head. He didn't know when or how he had gotten up the stairs and in bed, but he suspected that Tim had carried him. He smiled softly, ignoring the slight throbbing of his head, and pulled himself a bit closer to the sleeping Dutchman. Matt draped an arm across Tim, and snuggled against his side. He got comfortable, and felt the steady rise and fall of Tim's chest. He let out a content sigh, closed his eyes, and was totally prepared to go back to sleep.

But, try as hard as he could, Matt couldn't fall back asleep. He raised his head a bit to see the clock on Tim's nightstand, and saw that it was 5:30 in the morning. He smiled to himself, and thought about what Alfred would be doing right about now. Matt wondered if he had been woken up by Arthur and Francine fighting again, and if he was currently sitting through another awkward 'family breakfast.' Careful not to disturb Tim, he fished his phone out of the pocket of Tim's pants that he was still wearing, though his shirt was gone. Smiling a bit bigger, Matt thought about how much of a gentleman Tim was. He didn't take off Matt's pants while he was drunk; Tim was definitely a keeper.

When Matt had his phone out, he opened his messages to text Alfred. However, Alfred had already texted him. _The English homework wasn't worth it. Please come home brother._ The fact that Al was texting with such great grammar surprised Matt. He checked the time it was sent- 5:09. He stifled a laugh and texted him back. _Next time stay with me and Mathias and Lukas lmao. _It wasn't two seconds later that Alfred had texted back. _I SHOULD HAVE. I think mom and dad got drunk and fucked last night and now I think they're getting violent mattie pls come home right fucking now._ Matt sighed and locked his phone. Sure, he should go home and help his brother. It would be the nice thing to do. But he looked back at Tim, and decided that he didn't want to be nice.

_I can't right fucking now Al. Mathias and Lukas are asleep._ Matt texted his brother. Immediately, he got a reply. _PLEASE MATTHEW IM BEGGING U WAKE THEM UP COME RESCUE ME MOM IS TALKING ABOUT DADS DICK HELP ME_. Matt sighed, and texted him back. _Fine. I'll get Lukas up, I'll be there in like 20 minutes._ Matt rolled off of Tim, and sat up. A few seconds later, he heard Tim groan. "No, Matt, come back." Tim covered his head with his now freed arm. "I've gotta get back home." Matt said softly, hoping Tim would understand. Tim uncovered his face and looked at his clock. "It's like, 6 in the morning though." Tim's voice was vaguely pouty, and Matt smiled despite it. Tim really wanted to cuddle him, didn't he?

"Yeah, but I left Alfred alone with Mom and Dad and he's about to have a breakdown." Matt sighed, and Tim groaned again. He rose up beside Matt and pulled him into a hug, which bent them both kind of awkwardly, considering their positions. "I don't want you to go though. It's too early and I want to spend time with you and it's the morning and I'm kind of hard-" Tim cut himself off and looked to Matt. He pulled the blanket off the two of them and Matt looked down and, oh. He was hard. Matt didn't usually wake up with morning wood, but seeing Tim's hard cock tenting his sweatpants (when did he put those on?) made the blood rush instantly to Matt's dick. "I mean, I could take care of it pretty quick and all, but-" This time, Tim was cut off by Matt's lips on his. They kissed hungrily, and Matt jumped a bit when he felt Tim's hand rubbing at his cock through the pants he was still wearing.

Tim pulled away slightly and whispered to Matt, "Sorry about making you sleep in your pants. Here, let me take care of that." Matt felt hands at his waist, pulling off Tim's dress pants. Tim managed to get them off quickly, and threw them to the floor. Tim went back to stroking Matt through his boxers, and Matt hurriedly freed Tim's from his sweatpants. After a few moments of stroking, Tim pulled away, and Matt whined. "Matt, I want… I want to see you touch yourself." He panted, and Matt didn't need telling twice. He pulled his aching dick out of his boxers and slowly started to jerk himself. He took a look over to Tim, who was staring at him lustfully and stroking at his own length.

Seeing Tim jerking himself off was enough to make Matt speed up. Normally when he jerked off, he liked to build himself up and to tease himself, but obviously he wouldn't be able to do that today. Hearing Tim's pants and light moans and him beside him was almost enough to make Matt cum right them, but he held on. He played with the head of his cock, moaning lightly, smirking when Tim sped up himself when he did that. He continued to palm his length, and was suddenly struck with an idea that he knew would send Tim over the edge.

Matt put two of his fingers near Tim's face, and for a moment, Tim was confused. (He kept stroking himself, but he was confused.) After a few seconds, Matt wantonly moaned "Suck them," and Tim nodded and opened his mouth. Matt slowly put in his fingers, and the feeling of Tim's tongue on his fingers was strangely erotic. Tim sucked on them for a few moments, getting them nice and wet, and Matt pulled them out. He slowly drew the wet fingers down his body, knowing he was teasing Tim, and loving it. He lightly touched the tip of his cock with the fingers, mixing Tim's saliva with a bead of pre-cum that had appeared. Matt smirked, shut his eyes, and trailed them down his length and finally, teased his entrance slowly before plunging a finger into himself.

Matt didn't finger himself often, and he knew he was rusty, but Tim was moaning his name now. Matt struggled to find his prostate, but once he did, he moaned loudly and had to squeeze the base of his cock to keep him from cumming then. Once he felt the need leave him, he added his second finger, and started to thrust his hips against himself. Matt bit his lip and opened his eyes, and he saw Tim shallowly fingering at his own entrance, stroking his cock and staring at Matt with the most lust-filled look Matt had ever seen. His fingers brushed his prostate one last time, and Matt came onto his stomach with a groan. Tim's eyes went wide, and he started to stroke and finger himself faster. A few seconds later, Tim came, moaning Matt's name. Panting, he took his hand off of his cock and held Matt's tightly. After the two caught their breath, Tim leaned over and kissed Matt. "Thanks for that, babe. Come on, let's get cleaned up and I'll get you home."


	14. Chapter 14

Tim and Matt showered quickly (and together, of course,) after their mutual jerk-off session. That had taken nearly 15 minutes, and Matt had promised Al he would be home in 20. Matt didn't bother with even drying his hair, though Tim seemed upset about not getting to style his before leaving. He pouted as Matt pulled him away from the mirror and down the stairs to the garage.

"I promised my brother! I don't want him to go crazy being stuck with them." Matt said, and pushed Tim into his garage. "But, you have to at least let me put some gel in it! What if I see someone I know?" Tim whined, and Matt kept pushing him towards his car. "Then we're fucked anyways, because they'll see you escorting your student home on his walk of shame. So get in your damn car and escort me home." Matt had pushed Tim up against his car, and Tim sighed. "Okay, fine, bossy. But if you make fun of me I swear to god I'll cry." Tim pouted as he got into his car, and didn't stop once they started to drive to Matt's.

"Oh no, it's drying like this! I swear to god Matt, the things I do for you." Tim complained after he checked his hair in the rearview mirror at a stoplight. He gave the mirror a dirty look then pulled his hood up. "Oh, come on. Let me see." Matt asked, and Tim tightened the strings on his hoodie. "Tim! I've seen your dick but you won't let me see your natural hair?" Matt reached to pull off Tim's hood, and he pulled it tighter. "Tim, oh my god. Tim, you're a child." Matt groaned, but once the light turned green and Tim moved his hands back to the wheel, he got an idea.

In one movement, Matt had reached over and pulled off Tim's hood, and finally got to see what Tim was so embarrassed about. Honestly, Matt didn't see what Tim had to be worried about- Matt thought he looked handsome with his hair down. It made him look younger and it covered the nasty scar on his forehead. "Matt! You son of a bitch!" Tim yelled, and Matt saw that his face was slightly red. "I look fucking 12, give me back my hood." Tim grumbled and pulled his hood back up. He pulled into the abandoned gas station parking lot that he had stopped at the day he brought Matt home from school.

"It seems like we only come to this place when someone is pouting and needs cheering up, eh?" Matt laughed lightly. "Eh? What are you, Canadian?" Tim was still pouting, and Matt smiled. "I am in my heart. But no- remember how you cheered me up the last time we were here?" he asked, and Tim's pout wavered. Matt knew that Tim knew what was coming. Without saying a word, Matt placed his hand under Tim's chin and raised his head. He pulled the hood off, and though Tim's stare hardened for a moment, he didn't say anything. Matt brushed Tim's hair out of his eyes and the car was silent as he slowly pressed his lips to Tim's.

The kiss was chaste at first. There was no tongue, no frantic grabbing, just their lips pressed together. Matt could feel Tim's breathing on his cheek, and he smiled into the kiss. Immediately he felt Tim smile back, and he pulled his lips away to laugh. Matt's forehead was pressed against Tim's, and Matt looked into his deep green eyes. "I don't think I've ever told you how beautiful your eyes looked." Matt said offhandedly. Tim smiled and pecked Matt on the lips. "Yours are too, Matt. They're so blue, they're almost purple. Has anyone ever told you that?" A smile played on Tim's lips, and Matt blushed a bit. "No, uh, they… I-" Matt, who was still not used to receiving compliments, stammered a bit, but was cut off by a kiss from Tim. This kiss was a bit more passionate, Tim must have realized how little time they had before Matt needed to be home. His tongue begged for entrance into Matt's mouth, and it was quickly granted. Matt wanted just a last taste of Tim before he left; he wanted the faint taste of cigarettes and coffee to stay in his mouth all day, and every day after that.

Tim and Matt abruptly jumped back when they heard a shout from outside the car. "Matthew Ludovic Kirkland!" The voice was dripping with a French accent and Matt's heart rate sped up as he realized who it belonged to. "Shit, shit, Tim, it's my mom." Matt's voice was full of panic and he looked up to see that Tim was wide-eyed. "Well what do we do?" Tim's voice was hushed, but Francine had approached the car and was tapping on the window. "Maybe she's high- just let me talk to her and I'll fix it, okay? She won't know a thing, I swear." Matt tried to speak like he was level-headed and had a plan, but in reality, he didn't, and his panic was rising to a dangerous level. He opened the door and stepped outside to talk to his mother. "H-Hi, Mama." His voice was uncertain and shaky. To tell the truth, he was terrified. "Who were you kissing in that car, Matthew?" Francine didn't miss anything. "I- He- It's not what it looks like, Mama, I swear-" Matt felt tears start to prick in his eyes, and Francine's hard look made them threaten to spill over. Fuck, how could he be so careless? Making out with Tim in such a public place? It was his fault.

"So this boy, he kissed you against your will? You seemed to be enjoying it." Francine said knowingly. Matt knew he could never lie to his mother. Junkie or not, she could see through any lie, unlike Alfred or Arthur. "No! I mean-" Matt felt his tears start to stream down his face, and he lost any sort of control he had. "Mama, please, don't be mad at me, I promise it'll never happen again, I was just curious about guys. You can't tell Dad or Al, they'll disown me and I'll have to go live with you in France, and I'd have to leave him- please, Mama, I'm begging you-" Matt had started sobbing, and Francine moved to wrap her arms around him.

"Oh, don't you cry Matthew. I don't care that you like boys, or you're curious about liking boys. I've been known to keep company with a few women before… Matthew, I love you regardless of anything. You're my son. I won't tell your father or your brother a thing, it's our secret, okay?" Francine spoke softly, and she held Matt tightly. "You can go back to your friend. We'll talk later if you want to, once you get back home." Francine kissed Matt's cheek, and Matt hugged her. "Thanks, Mama." Matt sniffled and Francine smiled. "I have to go meet a friend, but I'll be home in a few hours. We can talk then, okay?" Francine asked as she started to walk away, and Matt nodded and got back in the car with Tim

"Matt, are you okay? Why are you crying, what did she do? Did she say something to hurt you? I'll get out and talk to her, Matt." Tim reached to open his door, but Matt grabbed his arm. "No, Tim, you, you don't have to." He wiped at his tears and tried to calm himself down so he can talk. "She doesn't know you're my teacher, okay? That's all that matters. She isn't upset or anything and she isn't going to tell anyone. I just… I'm sorry, I'll walk home from here." Matt opened his door, and Tim mirrored his movements and grabbed his arm. "If I'm not allowed to leave the car, neither are you, babe."

"Yeah, but, aren't you mad? I got us caught, and I almost got us caught with Mrs. Hedervary the other day, and I just thought, you know, I've fucked us up. I thought you'd be mad, Tim. I thought- just let me go, Tim." Matt's tears had started to fall again and he used the hand Tim didn't have to wipe at them. "What? Matt, close the door. I want to talk to you. I'm not mad." Tim said softly, and Matt hesitantly shut the door. "Matt, I'm not mad. That was certainly a shock, yeah, but I'm not mad at you. Why would I be mad?" Tim asked, and Matt looked at him. Matt thought he saw an ounce of hurt in Tim's eyes.

"Well, I- I got us caught, Tim, and you could lose your job if anyone found out, I thought you'd want to leave because I'm not worth it-" Matt started to talk, but Tim cut him off. "Woah, Matt. You didn't get us caught. If anything it was me. I shouldn't have touched you in such a public place. The same thing applies to what happened in the art room Friday. It's my fault, don't blame yourself. We just need t be more careful. Okay?" Tim asked, and Matt nodded, sniffling slightly. "Good. And what do you mean, you're not worth it? Matt, you're worth everything. And I know our relationship is moving weirdly fast, but I've cared about you for a long time. You might even say I was hoping for what happened to happen the day I told you to buy off me- anyways. Matt. I just, I'm not mad, okay? I'll take you home and let you calm down and I'll call you. Is that okay?" Tim asked, and Matt nodded. Tim took a quick glance around and kissed Matt's forehead quickly. He put his car into gear, and drove back onto the road.

The ride back to Brookshire was too short for Matt to bear. He hadn't said a word since Tim had talked to him, but at the same time, he didn't want to leave his company. Keeping true to his word about being more careful, Tim parked outside the gates of Brookshire, not even taking Matt up to his house. Matt knew that the risk wasn't worth the 3.2 extra seconds it gave him with Tim, but he didn't care. Tears were still silently streaming down his face and he didn't want to leave Tim. Before he left, he gave Tim a hug (which was awkward to do over the gears and car things between the driver and passenger seat,) not wanting to risk another kiss. Matt wasn't satisfied with the lack of contact, but didn't say anything. He got out of Tim's Volkswagen and started to make the short walk back to his house. He held back sobs until he got to his house.

Once he was inside, he noticed that both of his parents were gone. Big surprise there. Matt stripped out of his hoodie and threw it on the ground, hoping that Alfred was in his room and that Matt could go take a shower and cry some more. But luck didn't seem to be with Matt today, and as soon as he shut the door, Al popped out of the kitchen. "It took you long enough, bro! Mom and Dad already got pissed and left!" Al seemed slightly annoyed, but he noticed that Matt was shaking and that his tear-stained and his expression softened. "Woah, are you okay? What happened, Mattie?" Al had a hint of worry in his voice now. "N-nothing, Al, I just want to sleep. Leave me alone." Matt tried to walk past Al and get to his room, but his brother ran to the stairs and prevented him from going up.

"No, Matt. You're my little brother, and if you're crying, it means I have to kick someone's ass!" Al exclaimed, anger starting to return to his voice. Matt really didn't want to deal with this right now. "First of all, I was born first, Al, we've been over this a hundred times. And secondly, I told you, nothing happened!" Matt, usually soft-spoken, yelled, and pushed his way past Al up the stairs. He hoped that would deter Al from following, but Alfred was the 'too stupid to give up' type. "Someone seriously must have done something to you to yell like that. Mattie, what happened?" Realizing Al wasn't going to stop without any sort of explanation, Matt came up with a suitable lie.

"I had a panic attack coming home, okay?" Matt said as he got to his room and slammed the door in Al's face. He didn't even understand what his emotions were doing at the moment, he just knew he didn't want to deal with anyone. He heard Alfred turning the doorknob, and he locked the door. "Mattie, you open this door! You've gotta talk to me- why did you have a panic attack? Was it as bad as it used to be?" Al yelled through the door. Matt cringed as he remembered what Al was talking about.

Mrs. Hedervary once told Matt that she thought he had the worst case of anxiety she had ever seen. She had tried calling Arthur dozens of times once Matt had started having panic attacks regularly during his freshman year, but whenever she managed to get ahold of him, he would brush it off. Matt's anxiety got steadily worse, to the point where by junior year, he couldn't play hockey, he couldn't drive (possibly the reason he never got his license,) he couldn't even go to school without having a severe panic attack. Al finally noticed that there was something wrong with Matt when he missed 2 straight weeks of school, and he was, surprisingly, the one who dragged him out from his room and brought up the idea of smoking pot to help his anxiety. Both twins would deny it, vehemently, if the subject of how Matt turned from hockey captain to pothead. But in reality, Al forced Matt out of bed one day, and they skipped school together. Al drove Matt to a local park, and bought a joint off of Romeo Vargas, who stole it from his older brothers, Lovino and Feliciano Vargas, who owned an art store Matt frequented in Portland.

Matt remembered that the joint was huge, way too much for three first time smokers. Matt's anxiety nearly put him into cardiac arrest, but as soon as he took the first hit, the tightness in his chest completely dissipated. He smoked the joint to the roach with Al and Romeo, and they all three stumbled around the park for the rest of the day until their buzz faded. Matt remembered that, once they were both sober, Al took him back to his car and hugged him and asked if that helped him any. Al would kill him if he ever mentioned it, but Al had tears in his eyes. Matt remembered nodding to his brother, not trying to let on how much the pot he had smoked really had helped, and how he knew that he was hooked from the first puff.

Since Matt had been smoking regularly, his anxiety had all but disappeared. What had happened earlier in the car was the most panic he had felt in a long time. He took a deep breath, feeling his body still shaking slightly, and decided he needed to smoke to keep from having a full blown panic attack. He had gotten out his stash box and had loaded a bowl when he heard Alfred scream through his door again.

"Mattie! Are you okay?" Al's voice was laced in concern, and Matt decided to yell back, hoping it would get Al to leave. "Yeah. Lukas just got into an accident taking me home, and it scared me. I'm fine." He could feel himself calming down tremendously as he lit his pipe and took a big hit. He had forgotten to put a towel under the door, and there was no doubt that Alfred, who was still outside Matt's door, could smell the Dutch Treat Matt was smoking. "Uh, I'll just leave you to your ritual then, if it helps you calm down. I'll be in my room if you need me, Mattie." Matt heard Alfred shuffle down the hall, and let his head fall back. All his worries had disappeared, and Matt was finally calm.


	15. Chapter 15

Matt was at the peak of his high when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He blindly grabbed for it, fumbling a bit as he hit answer. "Mmm, yeah?" Matt hummed, and smiled. It occurred to him he didn't even see who was calling him before answering. "Matt?" It was Tim. Matt's smile widened and he giggled. "Tim," He spoke softly. No matter how high he was, he knew that Alfred had ears like an eagle, and he didn't want his brother catching them too. "Are you high, Matt?" Tim asked, and Matt giggled again. "Maybe a bit. It helps my anxiety!" Matt didn't know why his voice had an edge of defensiveness in his voice, but it was there. "Calm down, there, son! I just wanted to see if you were okay after everything that happened." Tim said, and Matt laughed. "I'm fine! Mom and Dad are gone and Al let me smoke, and I'm _fiiine._" Matt had smoked a lot, and wasn't quite sure of what he was saying.

"Did you smoke the Dutch Treat I sold you? I'm jealous, all I have is some Chernobyl." Tim asked, and Matt made a noise that was probably meant yes. He really liked what Tim had sold him. "This may not be the best time and all, but I kind of want to talk to you. Are you sober enough to talk?" Tim asked. Matt wasn't, but he didn't want to wait and talk high and risk unnecessary anxiety, so he nodded. (He didn't realize Tim couldn't actually _hear _his nod until Tim asked if he was still there, and he answered with a quick yes.)

"So you know that we're going to have to have some sort of change in our relationship, right? We can't risk getting caught by someone who actually knows who I am. I don't want to have to end things between us, but I think it'd be better if we stayed a little more low-key, okay?" Tim was being serious, and Matt hummed in approval before giggling a bit. "Haha, low-key. Loki. Thor's brother. Tom Hiddleston. I'm a little gay for Tom, not gonna lie." Matt laughed, and Tim tried to stifle his own. "Damn it, Matt, you said you were sober enough to talk. I'm trying to be serious!" He was trying, but he failed, and Matt could hear him laughing on the other side. "Who are you gay for, Tim?" He kept his voice quiet so Alfred wouldn't hear his brother asking his boyfriend who he was gay for. "Well, I mean, I'm kind of gay for you." Tim said, and Matt smiled. "Really? How sweet!" he cooed like it wasn't obvious, like he didn't just jerk off with Tim a few hours ago.

"I'm gay for Jonathon Toews." Matt said when Tim didn't say anything back. "Should I be worried?" Tim asked with a laugh. "Honestly you might have to. He's one of those real hockey dudes, not one of your pussy _land hockey_ players. And the Blackhawks are definitely playing in L.A. next week, and I've made my brother drive farther for hockey before." Matt said seriously. "L.A. is like, 15 hours away, Matt." Tim laughed, and Matt thought for a moment. "Did I say L.A.? I meant Vancouver. The Canada one this time." He replied. "And just why are you so gay for this dude?" Tim hummed, obviously having fun with talking to a very high Matt. Matt didn't blame him, he loved to do the same when he was sober. "Uh, because he's a 6'2" piece of Grade-A Canadian Ass. He's worth like 6 million dollars, too. So I'd totally marry him just for the money and Canadian citizenship." Matt said, and he heard Tim hum.

"Yeah, but my brother in Luxembourg makes like, 10 million euros a year. And I'm a 5'11" piece of Grade-A Dutch Ass. So you could marry me for the money and Dutch citizenship. And hopefully, you know, love." Tim said, and Matt heard him flick open his lighter. He was probably getting high too; watching (or listening to) someone else high was no fun when you could both be high. "What the fuck does your brother do to make 10 million dollars a year?" Matt asked, and he heard Tim cough a bit on the line. Yep, he was definitely getting high. "10 million euros is a lot more than 10 million dollars, Mattie." Tim said, and Matt made a noise of disapproval. "Ewwww, only Alfred calls me Mattie. You sound like my brother, not my boyfriend." Matt made a noise of disgust and Tim laughed. "Fine. What should I call you then?" He asked, and Matt replied nearly immediately. "Something Dutch."

"Ugh, but Dutch is such an ugly language for endearments though. I guess if you want me to I'll call you schatje, but, I don't know. I mean, I speak English like 99.9% of the time." Tim said, coughing a bit. "Aw, I don't know what that means, but call me that!" Matt squealed, and he heard Tim laugh. "Okay, I'll call you shatje then." Tim said, and Matt made a noise that probably meant he was happy. Tim giggled, and it made Matt giggle back, and they were a laughing mess until finally, they could calm down. And then, neither of them talked. Matt could feel himself going a bit red as he heard Tim breathing on the line, and made another happy noise. "I'm really glad I have you, Tim. I know I said I was gay for those guys, but I'm gayest for you." Matt said and laid his head back, beginning to feel a bit sleepy as he started to come down. "And I'm gayest for you, schatje." Matt could hear the smile in his lover's voice, and it made him grow even redder. "Mmm, Tim, I'm sleepy as fuck. You should come over, okay?" Matt said as he stretched out on his bed and pulled a blanket over himself. "Well yeah, you probably are gonna be sleepy. You sounded pretty high when we started talking." Tim responded, and Matt groaned a bit when he felt how empty his bed was. "Yeah, but, I want you here, Tim." Matt said and pouted a bit, knowing Tim couldn't see. "You know I can't do that, schatje." Tim said softly, and Matt pouted a bit bigger.

"That's so stupid. I'm a consenting adult, it shouldn't matter if you're my teacher. And my family shouldn't give a shit that I'm gay, you know? Like, they're my family. I should just be able to say, 'hey, I'm gay, and I'm dating my teacher that's only like, 4 years older than me.' And that shouldn't be a problem." Matt ranted, and Tim laughed a bit on the other end of the line. "4 more months, babe, and we can come out and I can stay over whenever you like. Or we can go get a place together in Seattle. Bring me your portfolio tomorrow, I'll make sure you get into Cornish, and if I can't do that I'll get you into another good art school in Seattle. But I promise, as soon as you graduate, it'll just be me and you." Tim said reassuringly, and it made Matt stop pouting. "You promise?" Matt asked, and he was vaguely aware of how much he sounded like an insecure schoolgirl, but he didn't care. He was sleepy and lonely. "Promise." Tim said, and Matt grinned.

The two were quiet again, and Matt happily listened to the sound of Tim breathing as he drifted off into sleep. It made his big, empty bed feel a little bit smaller. "Tim, I'm going to go to bed…" Matt warned before he fell asleep completely, and Tim made a noise of understanding. He was probably nodding off too, Chernobyl didn't keep you up for long. "G'night, schatje," Tim mumbled, and Matt smiled. "Tim, I think I'm falling in love with you," Matt mumbled back softly, so quiet Tim could barely hear him. His sleepy mind not really grasping that it was much too soon to be saying that, that he needed to think about what he just said. But Tim laughed softly and said almost as softly as Matt had, "I think I am too."


	16. Chapter 16

**(A/N:** This chapter is crazy long, holy shit! It just started writing itself at some point. I have some major polysyndeton abuse in here, and I haven't exactly edited this chapter that thoroughly, so fair warning. I'm warning you all now for angst and a little bit of Google Translated Dutch. I hope you like it, and if you do, please leave a review! Or if you don't, I really just want to see some reviews to see what you all think about the direction the story's going in.)

Matt woke up a few hours later to a knock at his door. He groaned and looked at the time. 6 PM- he had slept a good 6 hours, but he still wanted to sleep more. His fuzzy mind almost slipped back to sleep, but there was another knock at the door and Matt groaned as he got up to open it.

Matt opened the door and saw that Francine was behind it, smiling slightly. "Sorry I woke you, I just wanted to talk to you." She said apologetically, and Matt smiled a bit, still sort of fuzzy from the pot and the sleep, but he invited his mom in anyways. He was in a good mood with his mom for once, since she didn't freak out and accepted that her son was gay. He sat down on the bed, and Francine followed, waiting for her son to wake up a little more.

"So, do you care to tell me who that boy you were with was?" Francine asked, and Matt blushed a bit. He was bad with talking, especially about his feelings. "He's my boyfriend, Mom." He said sheepishly. There was a moment of silence, and Matt didn't know if he was imagining that it was tense or not. He wouldn't make eye contact with his mother. Francine didn't seem to mind that her son wouldn't look at her, and just laughed.

"So how old is he? What does he do? Tell me all about him." Francine asked, and she sounded like a schoolgirl getting gossip. Matt let out a deep sigh of relief. He was somewhat scared that Francine wouldn't approve, though he didn't know why. "Well, I mean, his name is Tim, he's 22. He's Dutch, and uh," Matt didn't know how to answer Francine's question about what Tim did for a living without incriminating himself, so he just smiled and said, "He's an artist." Francine squealed and smiled. "Oh, I'm so happy you've finally found someone! Arthur has told me about all the girls Alfred has been with, but he never says anything about you being with anyone." Francine cooed. "Well, I mean, I've had guys before, but I didn't want him or Alfred to know. Because they'd disown me, and I'd be with you in France, because they'd kick me out of the house." Matt said, and still wouldn't look at his mother. Why was coming out so hard?

"I'm sure you'd have a better life with me in France," Francine mused, and Matt finally looked at his mother to give her a look. "Yeah, but then I wouldn't have Tim, and you'd be doing drugs all the time. So we'd have to bring a Dutchman to France and you'd have to get clean for that to work." He joked, and Francine laughed along with him. "Two impossible things. But do you ever think that you'll come out to your family here?" She asked, and Matt shook his head. "Uh, no way. That's not a conversation I'm willing to have. Maybe if I invite them to my wedding and I'm marrying another dude they'll get the hint, but I'm never going to speak about it to them. I mean, I'm barely comfortable talking about it to you-" Matt was cut off by Francine hugging him. "Oh, Matthew! Don't feel uncomfortable talking to me, I'm your mother! I won't ever judge you. Your brother and your father might, but I promise that I will always be here for you." She held onto him tightly, and Matt smiled. "Thanks, Mom." He hugged her back.

It was a really strange feeling, hugging Francine. She was thin, and bony, and it wasn't like the Francine who would hug him when he was 8. It was weird even having a mother figure in his life, even for the short amount of time that she was going to be here. Strange as it was, Matt loved it, and he hugged his mother as tightly as she hugged her. "I love you very much, Matthew. It may not seem like it, the way I am always gone, but I do love you." Matt nodded against his mother's chest. "I love you too, Mom." He said softly, and without another word, Francine let go and walked to Matt's door. She lingered in the doorway for a moment, and looked at Matt, who was already back under his blankets. "I feel like doing the whole 'mom' thing tonight, so I think I should probably tell you off for smoking in your room." She laughed, and Matt barely registered what she had said before he was dozing again.

Matt napped for about 20 minutes before his phone's buzzing woke him up. He groaned and fumbled for it, and sleepily unlocked it to see a new message from Tim. _Do your fucking project from like two weeks ago._ It took Matt a minute to understand what the hell Tim was talking about, but then he remembered: he hadn't turned in a project in Art IV about shading. _You know, Tim, it's kind of hard to take you seriously as a teacher now that I've sucked your dick._ Matt laughed and sent the text, and got out of bed. He knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, and he was feeling somewhat familial after his talk with Francine, so he decided he would do the family thing for a while, at least until fights started to break out again. He stowed his phone in his pocket and he went down the stairs.

Matt could immediately smell cooking. He couldn't exactly pinpoint what food it was, but he knew that Alfred had suggested whatever it was. He took a shot in the dark and guessed that Francine was making hamburgers, Al's favorite food. Matt also guessed Francine probably wasn't happy about making them; when he was younger, she would always complain that Al would eat far too many hamburgers, why couldn't he be like Matthew and eat French food like a good boy. That was a while ago, before Francine started heroin. When she would actually cook for the family and would take them to Mass every Sunday and Arthur would actually be home most of the time and they were a _family._ (Even though Arthur was still cheating on Francine at any chance he got and he still drank and Francine didn't do heroin but she had a prescription for Valium and she went through far too many bottles for it to be healthy.)

Matt had almost gotten lost in memories, when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He decided to check it before he went downstairs, purely out of fear of the ever-nosy Alfred seeing the dick sucking comment. _I'm not that kind of teacher. Sucking dick won't get you out of doing your work, schatje. _Matt groaned at the fact that he had to do his project, but at the same time, he blushed when Tim called him 'schatje.' He still didn't know what 'schatje' meant, and he didn't know if he'd ever find out (he still didn't know what the hell Ivan was saying when he used to call him his 'lapooshka') but it still made his heart skip a beat. He sent a quick text back, _But I don't wantttt to show how shading changes with different media. Can't I just like, have rough sex with you and get an A?_ Tim's reply was an almost instant _No._ Matt groaned and shoved his phone back in his pocket. He really didn't want to do his project. What was the point of dating a teacher if he couldn't get A's for having sex with them? He decided he'd procrastinate and he went downstairs to get food that was surely finished cooking by now.

"Oh, Matthew! You're just in time, the food is just finished!" Francine yelled from the kitchen when Matt walked downstairs. "Yeah, and bro! You totally have some letters from some colleges!" He heard Alfred yell as well, and Matt nearly ran into the kitchen. "Colleges? Which ones?" He asked, and nearly tore the mail out of Alfred's hands. Al, being the bigger and stronger twin, held them away from Matt. "Come on, now, Matt. No need to act like a dog with a bone. Let me get mine out first." Al teased, and flipped through the stack of letters, pulling out letters from a few very prestigious schools in the area. Al wanted to be an archaeologist, and planned on majoring in Anthropology. Matt thought anthropology major had a lot less job opportunities than an art major, and had bitched to his dad about it, but Alfred wasn't being forced to double major for their money like Matt was. Matt always chalked it up to Alfred being the favorite.

"Come on, at least tell me if Cornish has mailed me back!" Matt almost whined, and Al flipped through the letters out of Matt's reach. "Cornish Academy of The Arts in Seattle Washington, University of Washington, Seattle University and The Institute of the Arts in Seattle. Why do you have such a boner for Seattle? Jesus Matt, you're such a hipster." Alfred laughed, and placed the letters on the table. Matt nearly lunged at them, but he stopped when he heard his mother clicking her tongue. "Tsk. I said we were doing the family thing tonight, right? You can read your letters after we eat this meal I prepared for us. I might even make you wait until your father gets home." Francine said, and brought the meal to the table.

"Ha! Good luck with that. Dad's probably gambling the night away all ready. He won't be back until at least tomorrow." Alfred laughed and grabbed a burger. He took a bite, and Francine gave him an evil eye. "I may have been gone for some time, Alfred Kirkland, but we still say grace at every meal." She said, and Alfred groaned. "Mom, I'm an _atheist."_ Matt gave Alfred a look to rival his mother's. Francine was a functioning heroin addict, and she was a staunch Catholic. Matt thought he was about to see some sort of third World War at the dinner table, but he was surprised when Francine just smiled at her son. "I will accept that, but you will close your eyes and pretend while I pray." She continued giving Alfred The Look until he bowed his head to pretend to pray.

"O Lord Jesus, please bless the meal our family is about to eat. Let it nourish us and help us give our glory back to you. Bless my sons, that they will grow healthy and successful…" Francine started the prayer, and Matt sighed to himself. When Francine started to pray, she prayed. Maybe she felt guilty for all the wrongs she's done, or maybe it was just a Catholic thing. Either way, Matt would rather be eating in his room, alone, talking to Tim. "Bless Arthur, that he doesn't get any venereal diseases from whatever prostitute he goes to tonight. And bless the prostitute, that she- or he, I don't like to judge, O Lord, for that is your duty- may find peace in his or her life." Matt stifled a laugh as Francine continued the prayer. He wished Francine would stay like this all the time, and the drug addicted side would stay away. "And bless me, Dear Lord, that I may overcome my own personal struggles to be a better mother to my children. Amen."

Before Matt could even open his eyes, he heard Alfred tearing into his burger. Matt laughed, and took one of his own, but he wasn't hungry. He felt nervousness gnawing at the pit of his stomach, and he hoped that he could keep his anxiety down. He didn't like smoking more than once a day, but if the feeling persisted, he'd have to. Matt wished he could just open the letter then and there, but he wanted to keep Francine in her good mood. Hopefully she wouldn't get into any drugs if she was in a good mood.

The meal, thankfully, ended quickly. Alfred and Francine were both quick eaters, and Matt didn't touch his burger. Once his brother and mom had finished eating, he grabbed the acceptance letters and was taking off to his room, but Francine stopped him. "Won't you open them in here, Matthew?" She asked, and Matt sighed and nodded. He would do the family thing for a little bit longer. "I wanna open mine first!" Alfred yelled and he sounded like a kid at Christmas. Matt groaned and said "Fine," and pulled out his phone. He felt like if he didn't tell someone how nervous he was, he'd explode. He ended up sending _I just got a bunch of college letters and I swear, I'm so nervous I could cry. _to Tim.

Alfred had applied to only two schools: Washington University and Harvard. The first thing he did when Matt let him open his first was tear open the letter from Harvard. He read the letter for a moment, and then a wide grin broke out on his face. "Oh my god, Mom, Mattie! I got accepted by Harvard! Fucking _Harvard!_" He exclaimed, and threw his fist into the air in victory. Matt smiled and patted his brother on the back. He was happy for him. He may make fun of Alfred a lot, but he did love his brother, and he couldn't be happier to see him succeed. When it looked like Alfred wasn't going to even touch the letter from WU, Matt patted his brother on the back, and looked down to his own letters.

Matt was already nervous, but he was even more nervous now that he actually was faced with knowing the truth. He saw that Cornish's letter was at the bottom of his stack of letters, and decided that, unlike Alfred, it would be best to leave it for last. He opened up his first letter, from University of Washington. He knew that it was a safety school for him, and he wasn't surprised when he saw that he had been accepted. He let out a sigh of relief, happy that he at least would have one school that had accepted him, especially since he wouldn't have to show UW his portfolio until he declared his major, which would give him time to improve it. He also wasn't surprised to see that the Art Institute of Seattle had accepted him. They were well known for accepting nearly anybody, and even without a portfolio it wasn't hard to get in.

The next letter was from Cornish. Matt surveyed the envelope before he opened it, and he saw that it was thin. He tried to think back to what Mrs. Hedervary had said about college letters. Thin meant acceptance, right? He decided to stop thinking about it, and tore into the envelope before he had a chance to talk himself out of it. Once he had opened the envelope, he took a deep breath and pulled out the letter. He didn't want to look at it yet, so he shut his eyes, hoping that he would see 'Congratulations, you've been accepted!' in big letters when he opened them. However, when he finally opened them, all he saw was a typed letter. "Well, Matthew, read it out loud!" Francine exclaimed, Alfred's excitement rubbing off on her, and Matt nodded.

"Dear Matthew Kirkland." Matt started, and took a deep breath before continuing on. He almost handed it to Al to read, but decided it would be better to read it himself, and kept going. "We are thankful for your interest in the Cornish Academy of the Arts, but are quite sorry to inform you that you have not been accepted for the Fall 2014 semester." He read and his jaw dropped. There was more to the letter, but Matt didn't read it. He didn't want to, it would just hurt more. "Yeah, family time is over. I'm going back to my room." He said softly, and laid all the letters down on the table, ignoring the condolences from his family and the mantras of "But you're such a good artist!" They spewed at him.

Matt walked back up to his room, and his legs were shaking. He was mentally berating himself the entire way there. How fucking stupid could he be to be so hopeful that he'd get accepted to Cornish? He wasn't a first-rate artist. If Alfred applied, he'd probably get accepted, since he was the better twin. Al had gotten accepted by _Harvard_; Cornish probably threw Matt's application out as soon as they saw it. And why wouldn't they? He was just Matt Kirkland, ex-hockey player and shitty artist. He didn't compare to Alfred Kirkland, football player, President of the Young Republicans, 4.7 GPA. He could feel tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes and he blinked them away. He wouldn't cry just because he was a shitty person. Matt threw open the door to his room and fell into his bed without even bothering to close it back.

After a while of lying in bed, back to the door, willing himself not to cry (but at the same time, thinking he should cry, because he's stupid and he's a bad artist and _Alfred got accepted to Harvard and Matt couldn't even get accepted to an art school_) Matt felt his phone vibrate underneath of him. He opened it up and saw Tim had replied. _Sorry about the wait, I was making a business transaction with some college kids from Salem. Did you get into Cornish?_ Tim had sent, and Matt let out a long, depressed groan. _No_

That was all Matt sent back to Tim. He really didn't want to talk about it, but he knew he was going to have to. Not just with Tim, but when Alfred finished celebrating (though Matt could hear him downstairs, and he didn't sound close to being finished,) and decided they needed to talk, or when Arthur asked where his hard-earned money was going to be spent, or when Mrs. Hedervary called him to her office to talk about his college plans. Matt would have to continuously talk about how he was so shitty, he couldn't even get into an art school. He wondered briefly if this was how Hitler felt after getting rejected at Vienna, but stopped when he felt his phone vibrate again.

_God, schatje, I'm really sorry. I thought for sure they'd want you, you're such a wonderful artist._ Tim had sent, and Matt felt himself break. The tears he had been holding in for at least 20 minutes started to spill down his face, and he started angrily typing out a reply to Tim. _I'm a fucking terrible artist. Don't fucking lie to me and tell me I'm good because you're sad for me. I've heard enough of that bullshit from my family and my fucking brother who got accepted to fucking HARVARD even though he always cheats off me in English. I'm fucking done with it. I might as well go to school for business like Arthur fucking wants me to im fucking done with art I don't even care anymore if I cant even get accepted to fucking cornish_ Matt hit send without even thinking about what he had said, and had a good cry about his life until his phone vibrated under him. And vibrated again, and again, and again. It was Tim, sending him a series of texts.

_What the fuck?_

_Matt, you're the best artist in both my classes you're in, and I'm not just saying that because you're my boyfriend. I'm surprised as hell that you didn't get in._

_And who fucking cares about your brother getting into some pretentious ass school across the country? He'll be the one who'll be hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt in a few years._

_Wait, I forgot, you all are rich as hell. But either way, who fucking cares?_

_Matt, do you know how many art schools I applied to and was rejected from? Lots of my dream schools. Oslo Academy of the Arts, The University of Art in Helsinki, UCLA, hell, Camberwell turned me down 3 times. I had to settle for the University of Oregon. It's not the end of the world, I promise you. _

_Don't you say those bad things about yourself you fucking beautiful human being._

When Matt was sure Tim was finished sending messages, he texted back. _But it isn't even about Cornish. I don't know if it ever even was. Its about Alfred and how he's the better twin and how Francine is downstairs celebrating with him instead of consoling her crying fucking son and Arthur isn't even here but I know as soon as he gets back it'll be 'that's my boy Alfred!' and 'why the fuck couldn't you even get into a hippie school like Cornish, Matthew?' because it always. Fucking has been that way. That is if he even remembers to ask me. I swear I could die and Arthur wouldn't notice im invisible in this household._ The text was sent before Matt could consider it, and Tim didn't reply for a good 10 minutes. It made Matt feel worse, and made him cry even more. "Great, now I've fucking made Tim mad. He probably fucking hates me, with good reason. I'm a whiny fucking bitch." Matt said out loud to himself, and he sniffled and he rolled over onto his back, when his phone vibrated. He unlocked it, and expected to see an angry text, but instead, he saw a text long enough to rival War and Peace from Tim.

_First of all, if you EVER talk about dying again, we're going to have a big problem, okay? Second of all, who gives a single fuck about your out of the picture, gambling addict father? You shouldn't, Matt. Because you have raised yourself to be a fucking perfect person and if Arthur doesn't accept that, then fuck him. If he can't see that, then fuck him. If he doesn't even notice you? Fuck him. You are so much more than your father's opinion. You are more than just a crying child of your heroin addict mother and you are a thousand times more than a shadow to your asshole brother. You are Matthew Kirkland and you are perfect. You are Matthew Kirkland and I will notice you every day of your life, and you won't be invisible, you'll be loved like you deserve to be. Fuck Arthur and fuck Francine and fuck Alfred and fuck Harvard and fuck Cornish. They aren't anything to you, because you're Matthew fucking Kirkland and you're smart, funny, genuine, creative, great at art, gorgeous, perfect. I'm so fucking angry, I can't even express it in English anymore. Matthew. Je nodig hebt om te zien hoe schitterend je bent en hoeveel alles dit alles doet er niet toe en hoeveel ik van je hou. En het is waarschijnlijk te vroeg om te zeggen dat, maar het is geen leugen, het feit is dat ik heb van je gehouden sinds ik legde mijn ogen op u aan het begin van het jaar. Ik hou van je. And I'm sorry this is long and I'm sorry about what I said but I had to say it._

Matt didn't know how to react to the text. Partly because half of it was in Dutch. He processed through the English part first and took a deep breath. _Come pick me up._ He didn't bother translating the Dutch part, or making sense of the English fully. He just knew that he had to see Tim then and there. He rose out of bed, wiping at his red, wet face. He pulled on his old hockey jersey and clean jeans and his shoes and, on the spur of the moment, he grabbed his sketchbook. Before he slipped his phone in his pocket he saw a text from Tim, a simple _I'll speed the whole way there, schatje._ Matt took a deep breath to try and stop crying, and sent back, _I'm going to walk. I can't be in the house anymore. Meet me halfway?_ And Tim nearly immediately replied, _Okay._


	17. Chapter 17

**(A/N: Sorry for the wait, I've been in Nashville all week! Long chapter to make up for that. Also, I'm thinking of doing a time skip soon, because otherwise this story is going to be 50,000 words and still in the rising action. I think maybe chapter 18 will be set a bit closer to Matt's graduation, I hope my lovely readers don't mind. Please review if you can!)**

Matt took a look at himself in the mirror, making sure his eyes weren't red from crying. (He'd just tell his Alfred and Francine he was high if they asked.) He avoided trying to be secretive, and walked straight past the still celebrating Francine and Alfred. At least his invisibility was good for getting him out of the house without being questioned. He was out of the gate in almost record time, and he was half-jogging once he got out of Brookshire. His smoked-out lungs couldn't handle the jogging though, or the walking, and his quick pace had him gasping for breath after a while. Once he reached the abandoned gas station where he and Tim tended to stop at a lot, he leaned against the wall and took a break. He caught his breath against the wall, and kept a look out on the road for a blue Volkswagen.

It was only a few minutes before the familiar car pulled up in the parking lot. Matt smiled a bit, and ran to the car, successfully voiding himself of breath again. "Aw, my little hockey captain gets out of breath after a 10 minute jog?" Tim teased once Matt was buckled in, and he started to drive on. "Yeah, shut up, I smoke a lot." Matt grumbled, and, as if to prove his point, opened up Tim's glove-box and pulled a cigarette from the pack of Marlboro Blacks that was in there. He put one in his mouth and lit it with the car's lighter, and inhaled deeply. All of his leftover anxiety seemed to melt away with the accompanying headrush. He didn't know why he didn't smoke cigarettes more often; they were cheaper and they worked a lot faster than pot.

Tim made a needy noise beside him, and when Matt turned to look at him, he had his mouth open. "Gimme one. I haven't smoked all damn day." Tim complained. Matt smiled and put a cigarette in his mouth, and when Tim stopped at a red light, he lit the cigarette in Tim's mouth with his own. Tim inhaled deeply. "Oh, yeah, that hits the spot." He said as he exhaled smoke. "I don't know why you smoke this kind. I take my tobacco Soviet-style." Matt said, enjoying his own cigarette. The light turned green, and Tim took a left going towards his house. "Soviet, what? Is that an American thing?" Tim asked, sounding confused, and Matt laughed lightly. "No, it's a Kirkland thing. Dad called his Marlboro Reds 'Soviets,' Alfred and I call them 'Soviets' too." He said, and took a deep drag. "Oh, haha, I get it. Reds. Soviets." Tim said mockingly, but he laughed a bit. He turned on to Maple Drive, and Matt could see Tim's big white house and he smiled. They didn't talk for the rest of the short ride, but Matt was okay with that.

Tim pulled into his garage and Matt ashed his cigarette in the Volkswagen's ash tray. He climbed out of the car, and found his way to Tim's living room while Tim shut his garage door and turned off his car. Matt was alone for a moment, and he grabbed one of the pillows that were on the couch. It was a half-conscious action, and he hugged the pillow close to his chest almost without even realizing it. He breathed in its scent, and it smelled like smoke and pot and _Tim._ He smiled and exhaled and closed his eyes, barely registering when he heard the door to Tim's garage open.

Tim sat beside Matt, and pulled one of his hands off of the pillow. He held it tightly, and he rested his head on Matt's shoulder. The two were still and silent for a while, until Tim broke the silence. "So, do you want to talk?" He asked, and Matt didn't say anything in reply. He clutched the pillow and Tim's hand tighter, though, and Tim took that as a yes. "I don't ever want to hear you talking about dying again, Matt. I know it was just a passing comment, but you mean too much to me to die, okay?" Tim said, and he held Matt's hand in a white knuckled grip. When Matt once again didn't answer, Tim kept talking.

"And I just really hate the entire idea of suicide, Matt. My dad, he committed suicide when I was 12. He was… the perfect Dutchman, if there is one. He was strong, Aryan. His dad was a Nazi and, god, Opa was crazy. But, Dad was the perfect Dutchman. He was the perfect Dutchman, so of course, he was selfish. And mom found him hanging one day and we never even found out why. She got married to some asshole, abusive Spaniard not even a year later. He gave me this scar," Tim tapped at the mark on his forehead, "when I was 16. He got drunk on rum and he threw the bottle at me. So I left the Netherlands entirely when I turned 18." Tim laughed a bit and breathed deeply.

"I don't want to die, Tim. I haven't wanted to die for a while now. And after these past few days, I don't think there's ever going to be a point in time where I want to die again." Matt said softly, and Tim smiled, and pressed a kiss to Matt's lips. "Good. Even if we weren't together, I'd be devastated if you, or any of my students killed themselves." Tim said, and Matt vaguely noticed that Tim's eyes were wet. "You're an ass, Matt, we were supposed to be talking about you, not me." Tim laughed slightly and Matt wiped away his tears. "We can talk, Tim. What do you want to talk about?" Matt asked, and Tim looked thankful to be off the topic of suicide.

"Tell me about what happened today. It seems like it's been just a shitty day, just tell me everything that happened." Tim asked, and Matt nodded. "Everything was actually pretty okay once I got home. I told Mom you were a 22 year old artist and you were my boyfriend, and she was happy that I had you. She was happy that I was happy. Mom was in a good mood and she made us dinner and then we got our college letters. And Alfred got accepted to Harvard like everyone knew he would, and I didn't get into Cornish because I'm bad at art. I don't know." Matt shrugged, and Tim gave him a look that could kill.

"I told you to stop saying that, Matt. I already told you you're a great artist. And what did you mean when you said you were done with art when you were texting me?" Tim asked, sounding slightly angry. Matt blushed and looked away from his lover. "I just, if I'm no good at art I don't want to do it anymore." Matt said sheepishly, and buried his face in the pillow in front of him. He hated talking about his feelings. "Well, it's a good thing you're a fucking fantastic artist, isn't it? Because I'd hunt you down if you ever tried to quit art." Tim said, and he pulled Matt's face from the pillow and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "And I'll hunt down everyone who made you feel like you aren't good enough." Another kiss, closer to his lips this time. "And I'll make sure you're loved exactly how you are meant to be." Tim's lips met Matt's, and Matt thought this kiss was one of the best kisses he's ever had, though it was chaste and it was slow.

The kiss sped up though, and became more passionate. Matt lost the pillow and sketchbook that had been in his arms, and they wrapped themselves around Tim, and he felt like he was created to hold the Dutchman in front of him. Matt heard nothing but the beating of his own heart and the blood rushing in his ears, and he felt Tim's hands settle at his hips. Matt pulled away from Tim's lips and started pressing kisses down his throat, and the breathy moans coming from his lover went straight to Matt's dick. Matt brought his lips to Tim's ear, and whispered as seductively as he could, "We sure do fuck around a lot for two guys who have only been together for 3 and a half days." Matt ended up making them both laugh, and it ruined the make-out vibe, but Matt was happier talking than kissing. However, when Tim got off the couch to go to his bedroom, Matt grabbed his discarded sketchbook and followed him.

The two quickly found the make-out vibe again, and Matt found Tim and himself both naked in a matter of minutes. Tim was kissing slowly down Matt's chest, and Matt was letting out little moans. "Top or bottom?" Tim asked as he kissed the curls at the base of Matt's dick, and Matt moaned that he wanted to bottom. Tim smirked, and sucked on two of his fingers. Once he felt they were lubricated enough, he started preparing Matt's entrance, wasting no time. Tim licked the head of Matt's cock and hit his prostate at the same time, and Matt saw stars. Once Matt was finally prepared, Tim leaned over to his nightstand and pulled out the condoms and lubricant that he had bought a few nights ago.

Tim made a comment about how he was glad he didn't have to go back to the gas station to buy more condoms, but Matt ignored it. He was filled with too much need to have a conversation just then. Tim rolled on his condom and slicked his dick up with lube excruciatingly slowly. Matt whined and Tim laughed, lining himself up with Matt's entrance. "Shh, schatje. Be patient, I don't want to hurt you." Tim said, but it didn't stop Matt from whining even more as Tim pushed into him. Matt hated the slow pace Tim was going at. Matt worked himself alone with his favorite toy enough that Tim wouldn't hurt him, and Matt opened his mouth to say that, but ended up gasping as Tim suddenly thrust all the way into him.

Tim quickly settled into a slow rhythm, and smiled down at Matt. "Would you kill me if I wanted to take it slow tonight? I feel like we need something romantic after today," Tim asked, and Matt shook his head. He hadn't had a nice slow fuck since Ivan, and he was definitely okay with it. The romantic side was a bonus. Matt groaned as Tim thrust gently against his prostate, and Tim smiled. "This is a lot better sober," Tim said softly, and Matt nodded. Matt wondered if Tim was going to talk the entire time. Too much talking during sex could definitely kill the mood, but luckily, Tim seemed to shut up after that, except for a few moans every once in a while.

Tim leaned down to kiss Matt, and Matt happily kissed back. The feeling of Tim's lips against his and the feeling of Tim inside him was probably the best feeling Matt had ever felt in his life. Tim struck Matt's prostate again, and Matt moaned into the kiss, and Tim pulled back. "I love when you make noise for me, Matt," Tim said, and his voice was full of lust. As if to prove a point, he hit Matt's prostate when he said it, and forced another moan out of Matt. Tim smirked and found one of Matt's hands, and entwined his fingers with Matt's. "Look at you, being fucking romantic," Matt laughed, and Tim smiled at him. "Look at you, being fucking beautiful," he replied, and leaned down to press his forehead against Matt's. Matt laughed slightly and felt his face go red, and looked into Tim's eyes. "You're the beautiful one here, Tim." Matt said softly, and Tim went red too. He closed the distance between them and pulled Matt into a deep kiss.

A few thrusts later, Tim was groaning. He sped up a bit, and Matt knew he was about to cum. Matt rocked himself back against Tim's thrusts, hitting his prostate each time, and a particularly hard thrust sent him over the edge. Matt came, hard, on his stomach, and Tim came with a groan into the condom a few seconds later. He pulled out of Matt and pulled off his condom. He knotted it, and threw it towards his trash can, and missed. "Ugh, remind me to pick that up later. After cuddles." Tim said, and rolled over to the side of Matt. He pulled Matt towards him, and held onto him tightly.

Matt smiled, and kissed Tim's lips. "That was fucking great, though. We should have sober sex more often." Matt said absentmindedly, and Tim traced patterns on Matt's bare back with his fingers. "You know what we should do? Go get tested for STD's so we can have some sober, bareback sex." Tim said just as absentmindedly. "I've never even had unprotected sex, I'm probably good." Matt replied, and Tim nodded. "I haven't had unprotected sex in 4 years, so I'm probably good too, but it never hurts to check." Tim said, and Matt hummed in approval. They could talk about this some other time.

A few minutes later, Tim rolled away from Matt to turn on the lamp on his nightstand. Matt groaned at the loss of contact, but was floored when he looked over to Tim to see that the Dutchman, who now had a cigarette perched between his lips, looked absolutely stunning with the lighting. "Don't move," Matt commanded, and he had grabbed the sketchbook he had discarded on the floor before they had sex. He flipped to an open page, and pulled the pencil out of the spiral, and started to sketch his lover.

"Oh, come on Matt, do you really have to do that right now? I need my nicotine fix." Tim complained, but Matt barked a "Stop moving!" at him. Tim obeyed him, though he made a displeased face. "Make the same face you were making before! You looked well-fucked and absolutely in love," Matt teased, and Tim grumbled for a bit before going back to the face he had been making. "You're lucky I'm an artist and understand your struggles," Tim commented, and Matt gave him a look that effectively stopped the older man from saying anything else.

Matt had finished the basic sketch after about 20 minutes, and allowed Tim to light his cigarette. When he finished that cigarette, Matt forced him to light another, so he could continue sketching the shape his mouth made when he inhaled the smoke. Then Matt made him light another, and another, and another, until Tim looked like he was about to die from smoke inhalation. "Jesus, Matt, you're going to give me cancer! I'm gonna puke if you make me smoke anymore." Tim complained, voice slightly raspy, after almost an hour of chainsmoking. He looked at Matt, and his eyes begged for a break. Matt nodded his head, and Tim sighed in relief and let his whole body go slack.

"You know, you're going to have to model for me now. It's only fair," Tim said, and Matt laughed. "I'm almost done," Matt said, but Tim kept looking at him. "I'm serious! I've wanted to draw you since I started feeling these lovey-dovey feelings for you at the beginning of the year. So now you've drawn me, and it's only fair." Tim said again, and Matt ignored him and kept on drawing. "Maybe some other day." Matt said, and the room went quiet after that, the only sound being Matt's pencil on paper.

Almost 30 minutes later, Matt put down his sketchbook. "Finished." He said, and closed the book. "Hey, hey, if you're going to draw me, I at least get to see it." Tim complained, and Matt shook his head. "Nope, this is a rough sketch in my secret sketchbook. For my eyes only. I've been filling it up since 8th grade." Matt said, and Tim made a displeased face. "Then why did you bring it to my house? Let me see at least what you just sketched." Tim asked, and Matt shook his head again. "Fine, then I'll wait 'til you're asleep and go through the whole thing." Tim said, and Matt's eyes went wide. "No, no! I'll show you." He stammered, and Tim smiled. Matt flipped to the page he was on, and showed his sketch to Tim.

The Dutchman's jaw dropped when he saw it. "This is a rough sketch?" Tim asked disbelievingly. The sketch Matt had drawn was almost perfect, down to the scar on Tim's finger from an art accident in college. Matt nodded, and quickly shut the book. "Sorry it's no good, it doesn't do you justice." Matt said softly, looking down at the cover of his book. Tim's mouth opened even wider. "How could you draw something that wonderful then say it's not any good? Matthew Kirkland, you are a fucking amazing artist. It would take me a week to get a sketch looking that good." Tim said, and Matt's face went red, but he didn't look up from his book.

"Can I see the rest of your sketches?" Tim asked, and Matt's face flew up. "Uh, no thank you! They're kind of private." Matt said softly, and Tim looked into Matt's eyes. "Come on, please? I'll show you my art room if you show me your sketchbook." Matt thought for a moment, and sighed. "You better have the fucking Mona Lisa hidden in your art room," he said softly, and flipped open to the first page of his art book. It was his first true drawing; some anime-esque guy holding a sword. It was terrible, and Matt didn't like showing his shitty 8th grade art to people, even Tim. But Tim didn't seem to mind flipping through pages and pages of the same anime-looking dude, and Matt saw him smile as the drawings slowly progressed into higher quality sketches.

When Tim reached Matt's 9th grade art, Tim laughed. The first page of his 9th grade section was a large hammer and sickle. "Always been against the bourgeois, I see?" he laughed, and Matt smiled back. "It's not as great as some of the Marxist propaganda further on, but everyone starts somewhere." Matt commented, and Tim kept flipping through the book. He flipped past sketches of the hockey players Matt would crush on in sophomore year, and detailed drawings of pucks in nets, and a touch more communist propaganda. There were several pages dedicated to Ivan, the first of which Matt had drawn the first day he saw the Russian at the pool. Matt swore he saw Tim's face contort in jealousy a bit as he quickly flipped past them.

The first drawing of 11th grade was a mural of great communist leaders. Marx, Lenin, Trotsky, Che, Castro, Mao, Stalin and Ho Chi Min. That was the drawing Matt was most proud of; it had taken him weeks to finish completely, and it wasn't even actually in his sketchbook. It was a long piece of paper folded and stapled inside of it. Matt cringed as Tim flipped past it, slowly making his way into the more abstract pieces that Matt had drawn to try and deal with his growing anxiety and depression. He looked to Tim's face, and he could see concern on it. "What is this all about?" Tim asked softly as he stopped on a completely black page with a rope hanging down it, and Matt was silent for a moment. "I had pretty bad anxiety last year. It made me pretty depressed, honestly. It- It was a bad time for me. I wanted to die, last year. Art helped me out a lot, but pot helped me even more." Matt said, and his sketchbook backed up his statement. The dark, abstract drawings gave way to drawings of pot and sketches of his two friends, Lukas and Mathias, and Tim smiled. "I'm glad you're better now. But don't hesitate to tell me if that ever comes back, okay?" Tim asked, and Matt nodded.

Tim flipped a few more pages and came to the drawing Matt had just sketched. "I don't know how you could have this book in your possession and ever say you're bad at art, Matt." Tim said, and Matt went red. "I- Thanks, Tim." Matt smiled slightly, and Tim smiled back. "All this art is gorgeous. Just like its artist. An artist that will excel at the University of Washington. Cornish will wish they accepted you." Tim said, and placed a kiss to Matt's lips. Matt kissed back, and then pulled away.

"I do have a question for you though," Matt said and pulled out his phone. He opened up his messages and opened the long, Dutch message Tim had sent him. "Care to translate?"


	18. Chapter 18

**(A/N: Okay, thinking there's gonna be a time skip by chapter 20. Just letting you all know!)**

Tim went a little red when Matt showed him the message. "Well, it isn't really important. It was, heat of the moment stuff. You know what I mean?" He laughed lightly and Matt smiled. "Yeah, you're right. Don't worry, I have a translator app." Matt said, and closed out of the message and opened his Google Translate. "No, you'll fuck up my language! I'll translate it." Tim exclaimed, and sighed. He pulled out his phone and opened up the message he sent to Matt. "This is kind of embarrassing, like I said, it was heat of the moment stuff." He started to hesitate, and Matt cut him off with a kiss. "Just tell me. I let you go through my secret sketchbook." Matt said, and Tim nodded.

"I told you that you needed to see how beautiful you are. How getting rejected from one school doesn't matter. That you needed to see- That you needed to know how much I love you. That it was too soon to be saying that, but I've loved you since I saw you at the beginning of the year in my art class." Tim admitted, and his face was red and he didn't look at Matt. "You… love me? You've loved me since then?" Matt asked, trying to make sense of what Tim had just said.

The only person who had ever told Matt they had loved him, and were totally genuine about it, was his Grandma Norma. He could only faintly remember her but Norma had always favored him over Alfred, which made Matt ecstatic as a child. Norma wouldn't give sweets to Alfred, claiming they would make him fat, but she would always sneak some to Matt. Norma helped Matt with his French, and Norma always let Matt paint on her fancy easel whenever he and Alfred would spend their summers in the north of France where she lived. When she died, poor 7 year old Matt was devastated.

Ivan had told Matt quite a few times that he loved Matt. And Matt believed it when he said it. Matt had given the Russian his virginity, and he was Matt's first love. Even when Matt stopped loving Ivan, he continued to believe that Ivan loved him. Matt believed it until he cut contact with him without warning, and Ivan never even tried to talk to Matt again. That was when Matt knew that Ivan didn't love him.

Francine had often told Matt that she loved him. When she still lived with Matt, he believed it. But Matt stopped believing Francine when she left for France and didn't talk to him, or Alfred, for 10 years. Matt loved his mother dearly, but he didn't believe she loved him back.

Alfred had told Matt he loved him many, many times. Almost on a daily basis. 'Please don't tell Dad I ate so many cookies, I love you!' 'You did my homework for me? I love you, man!' 'You'll go to the park and sit alone for 3 hours while I bang this chick, right? Come on, you're my brother, I love you. Do this for me.' 'Spend the night with Mathias tonight, so I can throw a party at the house. No, I don't want you at the party, it might trigger your anxiety, and I love you too much to do that.' Alfred probably loved Matt deep down, and Matt loved Alfred, but Matt knew that Alfred mostly loved Alfred.

Matt couldn't remember Arthur ever saying he loved either of his sons.

"-I love you, Matt. And I'm sorry for saying it so soon, but I really do." Tim said, and Matt realized he hadn't heard half of what he had said, but Matt pulled him into a tight hug. "I don't care how soon it is. As long as you mean it." Matt said against Tim's chest, and he felt Tim kiss the top of his head. "I mean it, Matt. And I promise you, I'll show you I mean it as soon as we can get out of this town." Tim said, and Matt clutched onto Tim tighter. "Then… I love you too." Matt said, and added in a whisper. "Just, please mean it."

Tim wrapped his arms around Matt, and rested his head on top of Matt's. "Why wouldn't I mean it?" Tim asked, and Matt didn't respond. After a few seconds of silence, Tim repeated his question, and Matt avoided it again. "Matt, you're really going to have to start talking about your feelings. And I'll find a way to worm it out of you too, I minored in psychology." Tim said, and Matt laughed softly. "I- it's fine. I just have issues believing in love sometimes." Matt said, buried in Tim's bare chest. "Why? Is it because of that Russian guy you told me about? Dmitry or Nikolai or whatever?" Tim asked his lover, and Matt laughed.

"Ivan. And no, it's not entirely his fault. He didn't exactly fuck and leave, I broke things off with him." Matt swore he heard Tim sigh in relief, but he kept talking. "It's mostly my family's fault. They don't love me." Matt said it like it was some undisputable fact, as if he was saying 'the earth is round,' or 'field hockey is inferior to ice hockey.' Tim opened his mouth to protest what Matt had just said, but Matt's phone buzzing on the nightstand silenced him. Matt grabbed his phone to see that Arthur was calling, and Matt laughed. "Don't believe me?" Matt asked, and answered the phone, clicking 'speaker' so Tim could hear the call too.

"Where the hell are you, boy?" Arthur yelled as soon as Matt answered. "Portland." Matt replied nonchalantly. "And why are you in bloody Portland and not celebrating with your brother?" Arthur demanded, and Matt laughed. "Why would I want to celebrate Alfred getting accepted to Harvard when I was rejected from my dream school? I'd rather celebrate my friend selling a baggy of Adderall to a freshman for $75, thanks." Matt said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Every conversation with Arthur tended to go like this. "Well it's not my fault you didn't make yourself desirable to that bloody art college." Arthur sneered, and Matt rolled his eyes. "My ACT score was higher than Alfred's." Matt said, and Arthur scoffed.

"You have so much potential, Matthew, and you're going to waste your life smoking pot in Seattle trying to be bloody Picasso!" Arthur yelled at his son, and Matt smiled. "I see myself as more of a van Gogh, honestly." He said, and he could almost hear his father's eye roll. "You're going to regret your entire life, Matthew Kirkland." Arthur said, and Matt cringed a bit, but didn't miss a beat. "Oh, maybe we can go drink and gamble our pain away together! That would be some great father-son bonding time, wouldn't it?" Matt asked, and stifled a laugh when Arthur growled. "Fine. Just remember who's paying for you to fuck up your life." The Brit spat, and Matt smiled. "I will. Thanks, Dad. I love you." He said, and tried to sound genuine, though it was hard to say that to his father. "If you did, you'd be going to Harvard with your brother." With that, Arthur clicked off the phone. Tim stared in shock at Matt for a moment, but almost immediately said, "You pronounced van Gogh wrong." Matt gave him a dirty look, which Tim tried to combat with a kiss and a change in subject. "So what did you get on your ACT if it's higher than your Ivy League brother's? Because I got an 18."

"If you really must know, I got a 35. I would have got a 36 if it wasn't for the math section." Matt grumbled, but it seemed like he wasn't finished proving to Tim that his family was full of assholes. "If that doesn't convince you that my family doesn't love me, just look at this." Matt went to Alfred's name and sent two texts. The first was _haaaaa congrats on getting intwo hARVARD _and the second was _lukas and mathias r gay a s hell lmao I bt if I we're gay ud cick my ass_. Matt waited for a response, and got one almost immediately. _Matt, don't drink just because you're fucking unhappy that I'm happy. _And immediately after that, he got the response _I wouldn't just kick your ass, we wouldn't be brothers anymore._ He showed his phone to Tim, and locked it. "I had to convince him I was drunk, because otherwise he'd believe I was gay just from saying that." Matt said, and put his phone away.

"So, yeah. There you go, my family doesn't love me. But it's okay, they don't love Alfred either." Matt said, and wrapped his arms back around Tim. "Who gives a shit about them? I love you, that's all that matters." Tim said, and held Matt tightly. Matt nodded against Matt's chest. "You've had a bad day, you know what helps bad days?" Tim asked, and traced his hand along Matt's back. Matt shook his head, and Tim pulled his head up to look at him. "Drugs. Come on, let's go get high." Tim said, and pulled Matt out of bed. The two pulled on boxers, not bothering with any other clothes, and Tim led Matt downstairs to Tim's kitchen.

Tim lugged out his Box of Wonders, and put it on the table. "So I really do have anything you could want, have you ever done anything more than weed?" Tim asked, and started pulling out various baggies from his Box. Matt's eyes widened and he looked at what Tim was pulling out. He couldn't identify any of it. "I've done Valium and Adderall with Lukas, but I kind of always wanted to stick to non-addictive stuff." Matt said, and Tim made a face and put most of what he had taken out back in the box. "I'm guessing opiates are out of the picture, then." Tim said, and rooted around in the box until he found a bottle full of blue pills. Matt thought for a moment, then realized Tim was holding Valium. "You can have 2 for free. Otherwise, $10 a pill. And don't be telling everyone, 'Hey, Tim van der Heide sells Valium,' because this is my prescription Valium. I'm only selling to you." Tim said, somewhat harshly, and Matt nodded. He popped two sky blue pills in his mouth, and swallowed them.

Matt liked Valium. He had considered getting a prescription when he turned 18, but had never gotten around to it. He had only done it a few times, when he first met Lukas, who charged $20 for one of his pills. He never really liked paying 40 bucks for a high, so he didn't do it often. But now that he knew Tim was selling cheaper, he might start doing more. Or maybe he'd get around to getting a prescription, so he wouldn't have to smoke pot 8 or 9 times a week to be able to function properly. Matt felt the relief that the blue pills brought start to wash over him, and he let his head fall back with a sigh. He liked Benzo highs.

"Why do you have a prescription for Valium, anyways?" Matt asked as Tim popped a few Valium into his own mouth. "You take too much LSD and have a seizure _one time_ and then all of a sudden your doctor wants to put you on an anticonvulsant." Tim said with an eye roll. Matt looked at him with a bit of shock, his head heavy. "LSD causes seizures? Shit." Matt said softly, and Tim smiled. "I mean, I was on ecstasy at the time too. College was a crazy time. If you want to do LSD, you'll be fine. I wouldn't let you have a seizure." Tim laughed, and Matt could almost see his high hit him. He leaned back in his chair, and let out a groan. "I should do Benzos more often," he laughed, and Matt nodded in agreement.

"Tim," Matt called after a few minutes of silence. Tim perked his head up and looked at his lover. "Tim, help me to the couch. I want to lie down." Matt said, his voice deep from his high. Tim nodded slightly, having issues holding his head up. Tim got up out of his chair with a bit of effort, and pulled Matt onto his feet. He helped Matt walk into the living room, his arm around his waist. He laid on the couch and then pulled Matt in front of him. Matt yawned loudly and cuddled up against Tim.

"If you're gonna sleep, be sure to stay on your side. I'd be kind of bummed if I woke up and you choked on your own vomit." Tim said, shutting his own eyes and putting an arm protectively over Matt. "I didn't take enough to overdose, you dork." Matt laughed, and he could almost feel Tim frowning behind him. "Still, I don't want you to die. I'm touching you, that would be gross." Tim complained, and Matt let out a light laugh. "Your accent comes out when you do Benzos. It's kind of adorable." Matt cooed, and Tim huffed. "I'm from Holland. I have a Dutch accent. Izhn't zhat veird?" Tim said, greatly exaggerating his slight accent. "Okay, Goldmember. Fucking- I don't speak freaky deaky Dutch." Matt said, and laughed. Tim laughed too, and Tim held onto Matt tighter. Once they had calmed down, Tim pressed a kiss to Matt's head, and stroked his arm with his thumb. "On your side, remember?" Tim asked, and Matt nodded, and soon, they were both asleep on the couch.


	19. Chapter 19

**(A/N: kind of a filler chapter? idk, it's long though. the plot should really pick up after this chapter, I promise.)**

Matt spent the rest of the week at Tim's house. He enjoyed it a lot; there wasn't any fighting, or opiate use, or gloating about Harvard. Just lots of pot, Valium, cuddling, fucking and art. Alfred didn't once question why Matt wasn't at home, or where he was staying. Matt avoided him through most of school; he stayed with Tim during lunch, and during English, he buried himself in The Grapes of Wrath, ignoring his brother completely. Alfred didn't even try to say a word to Matt until Friday, towards the end of English class.

"Look, Mattie. Can you come home tonight? Mom's leaving today. I understand you're upset, but you at least need to come home until tonight. Mom and Dad are going out to eat in Portland, and they're taking me with them. You're invited too. Please, come with us. I can't handle them both in public alone. I'll even drop you off with Mathias and Lukas on the way home." Alfred said quietly, not wanting to attract Mr. Anderson's attention. "Why would I do that?" Matt asked, not looking up from his book. "Because, I don't know, it's the right thing to do? Mom's been using a lot since you left, and I don't know how to handle it. And you'd be leaving your only brother alone with our crazy fucking parents." Alfred said, and Matt knew if he looked over that Alfred would be giving him puppy dog eyes.

"You're going to have to do better than that." Matt huffed, and Alfred groaned. "Wow, you're really pissed at all of us, aren't you?" He asked, and Matt nodded. Matt wasn't quite sure why he was still so upset at his family. Normally when he got mad at them, he'd be okay in a day or two, but this rage was long lasting. "Well, if you come home with me, you can actually pack a bag and change your clothes. You've been wearing the same clothes for like a week now." Alfred persuaded, and Matt looked down at himself. He was wearing Tim's boxers and one of his undershirts under his hoodie, but Alfred was right. Matt had been wearing the same jeans and hoodie for 5 days.

"I could buy new clothes. I have my card." Matt wasn't going to persuaded that easily. He kept on reading, and Alfred groaned even louder. "I'll buy you another blunt off Romeo. That thing was huge," Alfred bargained, and Matt laughed. "I'm living with two drug dealers, and Romeo sells skunk weed." Matt smiled slightly, and he knew Al was getting frustrated. "Fine! What do I have to do to get you to come home?" Alfred finally asked, and Matt closed his book. "Remember how you wouldn't drive me to Chicago last year to watch the Stanley Cup game, even though I had tickets, and the Blackhawks ended up winning?" Matt asked, and finally turned to his brother. "Because Chicago is a 2 day drive, and I didn't even have my full license yet!" Alfred defended himself, but Matt put up a hand to stop him talking.

"Vancouver is 5 hours away. The Hawks are playing the Canucks tomorrow. We can drop Mom off at the airport and get right on our way to Vancouver." Matt said. "Fuck no!" Alfred yelled, and got a dirty look from Mr. Anderson. He cringed a bit and softened his voice. "I mean, I have a date tomorrow. With a Chinese chick!" Alfred countered. "Well, guess I'm not coming home then, and you're going to have to deal with Mom and Dad in a public setting all on your own." Matt said with a smile, and started packing up his things. Alfred hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Fine, let me tell Mei I have to cancel because my fucking brother is an asshole. And we're flying to Vancouver. I'm not driving with you for 10 hours there and back." He groaned, and Matt smiled. "Mei is Taiwanese, Alfred." Matt laughed, and Alfred rolled his eyes. "Taiwanese, Japanese, dirty knees, look at these." Alfred grumbled, and Matt stared at him in a bit of shock. "You're so fucking racist, Alfred." He said, and Alfred stuck his tongue out right as the bell rang.

Matt picked up his bag, and turned to Alfred. "I've got to run and ask Tim something. It won't take me two minutes, wait in your car for me." Matt said, and Alfred looked upset for a moment, but didn't say anything. Alfred wouldn't jeopardize Matt's coming home like that. Al left the room, and Matt half jogged to the art wing to see Tim.

Tim was cleaning up the freshmen's mess when Matt got to his room. He looked vaguely pissed off, but his face softened and he smiled when he saw Matt. "Oh, hey Matt. You're early." Tim called, and Matt smiled and shut the door. "Yeah, I needed to talk to you." Matt said, and Tim nodded and leaned on a table. "Tell me anything you need to." He said, and Matt sat beside him. "I'm going home tonight, and for the weekend. Mom's going back to France and Dad's coming home. So Alfred is bribing me with a Blackhawks game in Vancouver if I help him deal with the two of them for the night." Matt told Tim, who nodded. "I can understand that. When will you be back?" Tim asked. "The game is on Saturday at 9. We could, theoretically, be back by Sunday, but realistically, we'll probably skip school and fuck around Vancouver until Monday." Matt said, and Tim hummed.

"Well, text me, okay? Have fun and take lots of pictures, and don't fuck any Russian pool boys while you're in Vancouver." Tim teased with a smile. Matt smiled back and pressed a kiss to Tim's lips, and lingered for a moment before he pulled away. "Be more worried about Jonathon Toews." Matt teased back, and he stood up. Tim held open his arms, asking for a hug from his lover. Matt gladly gave him one, and held him tightly. "I love you, schatje." Tim said softly, and Matt smiled. "I love you too, mon chou." He said softly, hoping his pronunciation was right. His French was rusty. Tim laughed a bit and squeezed him tightly. "I appreciate it, but don't bring your French into this," Tim said with a laugh, and let go of Matt. Matt pouted a bit, but Tim kissed his lips.

Matt kissed back for a second, then pulled away. "I have to go. Alfred's waiting on me in the parking lot." He said as he adjusted his glasses, and it was Tim's turn to pout. Matt leaned forward and kissed his scar, and smiled at him. "I'll get Al to drop me off before 6th period Monday, if you want. And if you want I'll keep staying with you?" Matt said, though it was more of a question. Tim smiled at Matt and nodded. "That'd be nice. I'll see you then." Tim pressed one more kiss to Matt's lips, and Matt left the room to start his weekend with his brother.

"That was way more than two minutes." Alfred complained when Matt got to his car. "Sorry. I had to go drop off a project and he just wouldn't stop talking, asking about what school I was going to and shit." Matt complained. He hoped if Alfred thought he didn't like Tim, less questions would come about. Alfred laughed and sped out of the school parking lot. "Ha! Faggot probably wants your ass!" Alfred jeered, turning quickly onto the road that led to Brookshire with no turn signal. Matt gasped a bit, and his eyes widened. "That- That's gross, Alfred, don't say that!" Matt was startled by what his brother said, scared he knew something, but Alfred just laughed. "Don't worry. If that homo ever comes onto you, tell me. I'll kick his ass for you, baby brother." Alfred smirked, and Matt groaned. "I swear to God- I was born 16 minutes before you! Ask Mom!" Alfred seemed to ignore Matt's complaint, and he smiled to his brother, taking his eyes off the road for a dangerous amount of time. "I'm glad you're home, baby brother."

Matt was unfazed when Alfred pulled into the driveway and both Francine and Arthur were gone. Francine was probably getting high before going back to her fancy rehab, and Dad was probably having sex. "Mom's been in and out but Dad hasn't been home since we celebrated my acceptance- I mean, aw, shit. Mom said not to bring that up around you-" Alfred stammered when they got inside, but Matt cut him off with a laugh. "I'll let it slide, for now." He said, and ignored his brother as he tried to apologize. He walked upstairs, and went to his room.

Matt hurriedly packed a backpack full of clothes. He hoped Francine was already packed, so he could get on the plane to Vancouver as soon as possible. He changed out of his hoodie, but kept Tim's undershirt on. He slipped a Blackhawks jersey over it, and changed into a clean pair of jeans. He grabbed his stash box out of his closet and buried it under several layers of clothes. He decided he would leave it hidden in Alfred's car at the airport; he missed having his own pipe at Tim's house. He heard the front door open and the sound of arguing start to fill the home as he grabbed his passport and wallet, and smiled. Arthur and Francine were home.

With his backpack packed, Matt was ready to go. He grabbed Francine's bag, which was thankfully packed already, from her guest bedroom and bounded down the stairs with it. Arthur and Francine were standing in the living room, and they seemed to be pretty mad about something. Matt couldn't really tell; Francine had started muttering to herself in angry-sounding French, and Arthur had gone to pour himself a drink. Matt laughed softly, and the two didn't even seem to notice he was in the room. He pulled Francine's bag out to Arthur's Mercedes, and walked back into the house.

"Come on, guys. Let's hurry up and eat so Alfred can take me to Vancouver already." Matt said, leaning on the frame of the door. Francine beamed at him, and ran up to give him a hug. Matt could tell by the shake in her arms and slight wobble in her step that, Alfred was right, she had been using again. Matt gave Arthur a smile, and Arthur glared back at him. Matt didn't care; if his father wouldn't help him rebuild bridges, Matt would just leave them torn down. He escorted Francine to Alfred's car, and started to climb into the backseat of Alfred's car, but he heard Arthur snap at him from inside the house. "What do you think you're doing, Matthew?" Matt groaned and turned to look at his father. "Getting in the car? What do you think you're-" Matt cut himself off when he saw a glass of amber liquid in Arthur's hand. "Oh, no. I am not driving." Matt said seriously, giving his father a wide-eyed look. "Oh, yes, you are. I can't drive. I'm under the influence." Arthur swallowed the rest of his drink, as if to prove a point.

"I can't drive either, I don't have a license." Matt argued. There was no way he would drive tonight. Matt avoided driving like it was the plague. The last time he had actually driven had been nearly 2 years ago. Matt could remember it pretty vividly. Arthur had bought Alfred and Matt brand new, matching BMWs when they turned 16, and 2 weeks after he got the car, Matt totaled it after he swerved to miss a deer while he and Alfred were joyriding around the backroads near Brookshire. He broke his arm and his collarbone, and Arthur nearly had a heart attack when he found out that his son crashed his $50,000 car, that still had the new car smell, while driving illegally. His learner's permit got suspended until he was 18, and Arthur actually grounded him (even though he wasn't home to enforce it, and Matt was stuck at home in bed due to his injuries anyways.) Alfred, of course, didn't have a scratch on him, and didn't get in any trouble. Matt tried driving once he got his permit back last July, but he was never even able to get out of Brookshire without nearly having an anxiety attack. He was just too scared of getting hurt again.

"Well, you have a bloody permit. Drive my Mercedes." Arthur slurred his words slightly, and Matt would have laughed if he wasn't so terrified at the prospect of driving. His dad was a lightweight. Arthur poured a flask of the alcohol for the road, and Alfred gave Matt an apologetic look as he got into his BMW. Matt cringed, and got into the driver's seat of Arthur's Mercedes. His heart rate sped up as he gripped the wheel with white knuckles, and he hadn't even started the car yet. As he waited for Arthur to stumble to the car, Matt pulled out his phone and texted _Sorry._ to Tim. Matt immediately got a reply. _What do you mean?_ but before he could reply, Arthur had shoved his keys in the ignition, and the car roared to life (well, it was a hybrid, so it didn't really _roar,_ but to Matt, it felt like it did.)

"Put your bloody phone away and get us to Portland," Arthur snapped, and Matt nodded shakily. Arthur fumbled to type the airport into the car's GPS, and Matt swallowed nervously. He chewed at his lip, and tried not to start hyperventilating before the car was even in gear. He felt his phone vibrate again against his thigh, so he slid it into his pocket on his backpack. He didn't want any distractions. He took a deep breath, and moved the gearshift to 'reverse.' He held his foot on the brake until Alfred had pulled out and was at least 20 feet down the road, and slowly backed out of the driveway. He wanted to clench his eyes shut, but knew that he couldn't do that. He drove to the gates of Brookshire at about 10 miles an hour, and took his sweet time opening the gate to the main road.

Once he was on the main road, Matt continued his slow pace. He sped up to about 15 miles per hour, but he was still nervous going that speed. He got to the first stoplight, near the abandoned gas station, and Arthur smacked him on the arm. "You're going too slow. Francine will be back in France before we even get to the airport!" he retorted, and Matt groaned. "Dad, you really don't understand-" Matt started, but his inebriated father cut him off. "What, that you're too much of a damn pussy to drive? I should have risked the DUI." Arthur spat, and Matt hesitantly sped up to 35.

As he drove on, Matt found himself calming down slightly. He still drove at a snail's pace, but he felt calmer. He didn't feel like his heart was going to explode anymore, and he let himself breathe. He actually thought he would be able to make it to Portland- that is, until the GPS told him to pull onto the interstate. "Please tell me you know how to merge," Arthur groaned, and took a swig from the flask. Matt gritted his teeth as he pulled into the lane to get on the interstate, and nodded. His anxiety was coming back in full swing, and he could feel the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him an anxiety attack was coming on. He sped up as he prepared to merge, and bit at his lip until he tasted blood. He couldn't do this, he couldn't do this-

He was doing it.

Matt put on his turn signal as he hit 70 miles per hour, and merged onto the interstate. He breathed a sigh of relief, and his anxiety lost a bit of its edge. He took a look to the GPS, and he saw that Portland was only 20 minutes away. It was going to be okay. Once he was in Portland, he could sneak off to some alleyway and burn one with a homeless guy before his flight to Vancouver arrived, and he wouldn't even have any pre-flight anxiety like he sometimes had. Everything was going to be okay.

At least, that's what Matt thought before the sleeve of his jersey fell down as he gripped the wheel, and he saw the scars from where he had to get plates put in his arm after the surgery, and he lost any composure he had. His heart sped up and he was overcome with the thought, _holy shit, I'm going to wreck and kill me and Dad._ He started to hyperventilate, and Arthur looked over to him. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" He asked, but Matt couldn't do anything but mutter out, "I'm gonna wreck, I'm gonna wreck, I'm gonna wreck," over and over again. He blinked away tears, and tried to keep his composure until he got to the next exit before he started having his attack, but he couldn't do it. He swerved to the shoulder and parked the car. Arthur was yelling obscenities at his son as he grabbed his backpack and got out of the car, but Matt ignored him. He dug into his backpack and found his stash box, praying he had at least one cigarette.

Luck seemed to be with Matt, and he found one slightly crushed, stale Soviet under his pipe. Matt didn't care, and lit it up as he leaned against the car. He shut the door to the car, and smoked as fast as he could as his anxiety attack fully hit him. He stepped away from the car, and went to the guard rail. Being near the car made his entire body feel numb. Arthur was beating at window, but luckily didn't want to risk getting run over. Or a public drunkenness charge. Matt struggled to breathe properly, and sucking down smoke didn't help his hyperventilating, but the nicotine helped bring down his heart rate. He chewed at his lip and contemplated burning himself with his cigarette. Pain always ended an attack- Matt shook that thought away and pulled his phone out from his bag. There were several concerned texts from Tim, asking what Matt meant, but Matt didn't read them. He called Tim.

Tim picked up almost immediately. "Matt, are you okay?" He asked, his voice sounding concerned. Matt tried to steady his breath for a moment and failed. "Matt, are you okay?" Tim repeated, with even more worry. "D-Dad is making me drive," Matt managed to get out between breaths. "What do you mean? Matthew, what is wrong?" The sound of Tim's voice, thankfully, helped Matt calm down some. He inhaled a lungful of smoke, and exhaled. "I- I'm sorry, I'm, I'm having an anxiety attack, I just needed to help calm down before I had to drive again-" A car rushed by, and blared their horn, and Matt forgot what he was saying. He felt tears fall down his cheek, and he wiped them away before his father had a chance to see.

"God, schatje, I'm sorry. I'll be here as long as you need me. Do you not like to drive?" Tim asked, and Matt shakily breathed out. "No, I got into a really serious wreck the last time I drove and I just- god damn I hate it so much." Matt said breathily. He should have gotten high before he left. Being sober wasn't helping his anxiety. He had been having to smoke more and more lately to get the anti-anxiety aspect of pot, and even though he had smoked yesterday, it wasn't helping him. "Well it'll be okay, schatje. The attack will pass soon and you can get to the airport, and I'll pick you up from there if you need me to. I'll take you to Vancouver or home or wherever you want to go." Tim said, and Matt could feel the adrenalin starting to leave his body. "No, no, I'm calming down. I'm-" Matt cut himself off and gave himself a moment to breathe properly. "I'm okay. I'll be able to drive. I just needed to hear your voice." He said, and he was glad the attack was a short one.

"I'll let you get back to driving now, if you want me to?" Tim asked, and Matt nodded to himself. He could do this. "Yeah. I love you, Tim." Matt said. "I love you too. Be careful." Tim said, and hung up. Matt threw his cigarette butt over the guardrail, and got back into the Mercedes. "What the hell was that?" Arthur slurred when Matt got buckled into the car. "An anxiety attack." Matt said, and Arthur opened his mouth. Matt thought he would say more, but luckily he just lifted his flask to his lips.

The rest of the drive went on without an issue, though Matt still wished he wasn't driving. With the anxiety out of his system, he was able to concentrate more, but he still hated driving. He was happy when he got to the airport, and in an act of passive-aggression, parked Arthur's car as shitty as possible (though that was partly because he didn't know how to park, but hopefully Arthur would get his expensive car keyed.) Matt, true to his word, decided he would smoke before getting on the plane. He wanted to get rid of the rest of his pot before getting on the plane. (If he got caught with drugs in Canada, there was the chance of getting banned from Canada. Matt wasn't going to risk that.) He smoked the last half-gram or so of Dutch Treat he had in a nearby alley, and cleaned out his stash box of any traces of weed before cramming it back in his backpack, and going to find his family in the restaurant in the airport.

But, on his way to the fancy restaurant his family was at, Matt got distracted. By the in-airport Wendy's. He stopped in front of it, and stared at it in awe. His high was just starting to set in, and he was suffering from a terrible cotton mouth/munchies combo. Forgetting he was on his way to a restaurant, he got in line at the Wendy's, and ordered a Triple Baconator and a large Diet Coke. He grabbed the bag and cup, and made his way towards the restaurant his parents and brother were at. He found it easily, and made his way past the host to find his family. It wasn't hard, they were the loudest table at the restaurant.

When Matt sat down next to Alfred and started tearing into his Baconator, his entire family stopped talking. Matt looked up at them, his mouth full of bacon and beef, and gave them all a questioning look. "What," he asked, swallowing his food and taking a drink of Coke. "Matt, are you high?" Alfred asked softly beside him. Matt nodded, and pointed to their parents. "Mhm. But so is Mom, and Dad's drunk, so I fit in pretty well." He said, taking another large bite of Baconator. Alfred groaned, and pushed his plate of the way so he could lay his head down. "I'd take away your hockey privileges, but I already bought tickets." Alfred said, trying to pretend he wasn't there. The entire restaurant was staring at the boy with red eyes eating Wendy's in a 4 and a half star restaurant. Matt just smiled at them.

Luckily, dinner ended early, when Francine started to nod off, and Arthur got drunk on wine and started yelling British nonsense. Alfred called a cab for his dad and got Francine to her plane, while Matt went to the bathroom and put in eye drops and scrubbed the smell of pot off his hands. He smiled dopily at himself in the mirror, and laughed a bit. He'd hopefully be able to buy some BC Bud in Vancouver.

By the time he had gotten through security and checked his bag in, Matt's high was starting to fade. He decided to sleep the entire hour to Vancouver. Normally he'd complain about being Alfred buying first-class seats, but he was too high and tired to care at that point. He sleepily climbed into his seat, and was asleep before the plane even took off.


	20. Chapter 20

**(A/N: Sorry about so long with no update. sex scene to make up for it.)**

In early May, Matt started moving out of his house. Tim had started moving out of his house, too. He didn't explicitly tell Matt that he was moving to be with him, but Matt thought it was pretty obvious. He had got an apartment 10 minutes away from the dorm Matt was going to be staying at in the University of Washington, and he had started to look for jobs in Seattle. It made Matt happy to know that he wouldn't be leaving behind everything when he went to college. (Truth be told, he was prepared to fly down every weekend to see Tim if it came to that.)

Matt and Tim both managed to be completely packed up by May 13th, a week before Matt's graduation. To celebrate, Tim came over to Matt's house with a congratulatory blunt. They hotboxed Matt's bathroom, and they somehow ended up back in Matt's room, naked, on his stripped bare bed. "You know, we're like Houdini. Except, instead of escaping a straightjacket underwater, we escaped my locked bathroom. And our clothes." Matt laughed, and Tim laughed back. "I kind of want food," Tim replied, and Matt nodded, but neither of them got up from the bed. "I kind of want to fuck, but I can't even move. Did you lace this pot?" Matt asked, and Tim shook his head. "Just a new strain I bred. Called 'Polar.' But I mean, if you want to fuck, we can do that." Tim said, and Matt nodded vehemently.

So Tim leaned down to kiss his lover, and Matt kissed back even though his high wanted him to lay down and sleep. He wasn't going to give up one of his last chances to have sex in his room. Alfred, who had been preparing his cross-country move, had been home an annoying amount lately. He had actually caught Matt sneaking Tim into the house one night, but luckily he came up with a convincing lie: "He sells me pot." (Which was more of a half-truth than a lie.) Alfred bought it, and he had been able to have Tim over at his house a lot more frequently the past few weeks.

But Matt had never risked having sex with Tim with Alfred in the house. Today, however, Alfred was on a date with Mei (which, Matt found out, was Leon and Mr. Wang's sister, which made things kind of awkward in Chinese class,) and the house was empty. Matt decided, no matter how high he was, he was going to jump on the chance. He didn't know when he'd get the chance to have sex in his king-sized, memory foam bed again.

Matt was shaken out of his thoughts by Tim's teeth grazing a sensitive spot on his neck. He moaned lightly, and that made Tim bite down softly on his neck. He left a mark, but Matt didn't care just then. Tim kissed slowly down Matt's chest, and when he got to Matt's already-hard cock, he gave it a tentative lick. Matt groaned Tim's name loudly, and Tim chuckled softly before taking it in his mouth. He bobbed his head up and down, using his tongue skillfully and making expletives fall from Matt's lips. "Fuck, Tim, I love how eager you always are to suck me off," Matt whispered and fisted his hand in Tim's hair. Tim responded with a wanton moan that sent chills up Matt's spine. "I won't last long if you keep making noises like that," Matt moaned, and Tim pulled his mouth off of Matt's cock. "Well, maybe we should take things a bit further then?" the Dutchman asked, and Matt didn't hesitate to nod his head. He was unbearably hard, and he ached to be filled.

It came as a surprise when Tim grabbed Matt's hand and trailed it down his chest. "I was thinking, maybe you should top this time?" Tim said it with a smirk, and Matt nodded again, starting to slowly stroke Tim's growing cock. "Have you ever topped before?" Tim asked, letting out a breathy moan as Matt stroked him. "Only once," Matt admitted. "With Viktor, or whoever?" Tim asked. "Ivan," Matt corrected, though knew by the wry smile on Tim's face that Tim got the name wrong on purpose. "But yes. It was pretty bad, though." Matt hummed. "Well I'll just have to-" Tim cut himself off with a loud groan when Matt's fingers ran down his shaft to play lightly with his balls. "I'll coach you through it."

Matt didn't think he really needed coaching. He was more familiar with how anal sex worked than he was 2 years ago, and he wasn't nervously fucking Tim in a truck bed like he did with Ivan. His fingers moved lower, and he pressed at his entrance. It surprised Tim, and he jumped lightly before laughing. "First rule of topping is lube, schatje." He said, and Matt rolled his eyes. "You think I would forget that?" he asked, and put his fingers to Tim's lips, silently instructing him to suck.

The feeling of his fingers in Tim's mouth was incredibly arousing to Matt. It made Matt harder than he already was, and he groaned lightly. When he felt the fingers were wet enough, he reluctantly pulled them out and trailed them back to Tim's entrance. He circled the ring of muscles lightly, teasing with the tips of his fingers. Tim opened his mouth to say something, but Matt didn't let him speak. "I think I know how to finger you. You don't have to tell me anything," Matt laughed, and Tim closed his mouth. One finger entered Tim, and the older man let out a light groan as his muscles stretched. "It's been a while since I've done this." He admitted, and Matt smiled in response.

When Tim started to stretch, Matt gently pressed another into Tim. The Dutchman hissed in a bit of pain, and Matt stroked at his thighs lovingly. "You sure you want to do this, babe?" Matt asked softly, and Tim nodded. "Yeah. It's just taking me a while to get used to it." Tim reassured Matt, who started scissoring his fingers slightly. "You're so tight though. You're going to feel amazing." Matt nearly let out a groan just thinking about it. He prepared Tim quickly, and looked up to his lover. Tim nodded and reached for his wallet, perched on a box near Matt's bed. He rooted around in it for a moment, and tossed a condom down to Matt.

With a bit of difficulty, Matt rolled on the condom. Once it was on, he focused his gaze back to Tim. When Tim gave him a nod, Matt positioned himself at his entrance, and teased it with the tip of his length. Tim shuddered, and Matt pressed into him. He pushed in up to the head, and met eyes with Tim. "You're so tight, Tim." Matt commented shakily, and Tim smiled. "I'm normally the one on top." The Dutchman laughed, and Matt laughed lightly back. This experience was a lot better than what he had with Ivan. This wasn't an awkward hookup in the back of some guy's truck; this was laughing and pleasure and love.

Matt pressed in further, and he heard Tim groan. "You okay?" he asked, somewhat concerned that he hadn't prepared Tim enough. "No, I'm fine. Just getting used to it. Keep going." Matt nodded, and pushed until he was halfway in. He looked to Tim. The older man gave Matt a slight nod back, and Matt pushed in all the way.

Tim was tight. Matt didn't know if he was overly tight, since he only had Ivan to compare to, but the feeling of Tim engulfing him was nearly enough to make him cum just then. He willed the need away until Tim gestured that he was ready to move. Matt started to thrust shallowly into Tim, torn between trying not to hurt Tim, and thrusting madly into his lover. Matt decided to go with the former, and gave Tim slow thrusts. He immediately tried to find his lover's sweet spot, and Tim caught on to that quickly. "Don't worry if you can't find my prostate just yet. I won't hate you or anything." Tim laughed, but Mat kept searching.

It was the same problem Matt had had with Ivan. He just didn't know where the bundle of nerves was. He could find his own easily, but on another man? He couldn't do it. Ivan had ended up frustrated, and did all the work for Matt the last time he had topped. He didn't want Tim on top of him until he could prove to the Dutchman that he could please him himself. He kept thrusting at different angles, trying desperately to find the place that would have Tim a moaning mess.

And Matt couldn't find it. No matter how many angles he tried, he couldn't find Tim's sweet spot. "I'm glad I'm gay. This would be embarrassing with a woman," Matt commented, still trying in vain to find Tim's prostate. "I told you don't worry about it, last guy I bottomed with couldn't find it eith-" Tim cut himself off with a loud moan. Matt looked down to him, slightly shocked. "Did I find it?" Matt asked, thrusting in the same spot again and making Tim groan. "Yeah. Yeah, you did." Tim said softly, and Matt grinned. He kept hitting the spot, half out of wanting to please Tim, and half out of pride that he actually found Tim's spot.

Matt kept hitting it until Tim moaned under him. "Oh god, Matt, I'm gonna cum-" he said, and Matt nodded. "Same," Matt thrust into Tim's tight heat, savoring the feeling before he hit his climax. When Tim groaned Matt's name wantonly and spilled onto his own chest, Matt lost any sort of control and started thrusting quickly. He hoped he wouldn't hurt Tim, but he was too far gone to care just then. With a final hard thrust, Matt came. He buried himself all the way into Tim, and gripped his hips. He thought that this was probably the best feeling he had ever felt, and his head spun for a moment afterwards.

After he pulled out of Tim, Matt rolled off his condom and tied it, and went to go throw it away. Tim groaned when Matt left the bed. "Don't go," he whined, and Matt smiled as he tossed the condom away in his trash. "I'm sorry, I just don't like playing used condom basketball like some people." Tim shot Matt a glare when he said this, but his expression softened when Matt climbed back into bed and wrapped his arm around him.

"So did I do okay?" Matt asked, pressing his forehead against Tim's. "Better than okay. You did great. Bet it was way better than topping with Vladimir, huh?" Tim laughed slightly, and gave Matt a kiss. "Ivan. And, yeah. It was a lot better." Matt said with a smile, and closed his eyes. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're too tired for pillow talk." Tim said, making Matt open his eyes. "Not gonna lie, I am." He laughed, and gave a quick kiss to Tim. "Stay here tonight. Alfred isn't gonna be home," Matt asked after shutting his eyes once again. He felt Tim nod against him before they both fell asleep completely. And since they were both asleep, neither of them heard the front door open.


	21. Chapter 21

**(A/N: This is where it all starts happening, guys. This one honestly hurt me a bit to write! I need to stop making Arthur Kirkland such an asshole, but hey. Next fanfic. Hope you guys like it!)**

The front door had opened nearly 20 minutes after Matt and Tim fell asleep. They were deep in post-high, post-sex sleep, of course, and didn't hear it. Matt, however, stirred awake when he heard the sound of someone bounding up the stairs, and started to panic. "Tim, get up, get the fuck up." He said, and jabbed his hands a bit harshly into Tim's ribs. "Mmm?" Tim groaned, raising his head looking to the door, where footsteps were slowly approaching. "Put on your clothes. Hurry!" Matt commanded, and nearly pushed Tim out of bed.

"Mattie? You home? I really need to talk to you!" Alfred called, his voice laced with concern for some reason, and Matt could tell that he was halfway up the stairs. He'd be to Matt's room soon. "Shit," Matt cursed under his breath, and started throwing on various clothes. "Gimme a second? I'm kind of smoking right now-" Alfred just kept approaching Matt's room, ignoring what he said. Matt groaned, dropping the s-bomb usually shocked Alfred into stopping whatever he was doing. "It can't wait! I fucked up bad, Matt. I… I got Mei pregnant, and you're always the best one with advice about stuff like this!" So that explained the level of concern in Al's voice. Matt still thought his current situation was a bit direr. Alfred was at his door, jiggling the knob. Matt sure was glad he had the sense to lock it.

"Oh my god, Al. Give me just a second, I've got my hookah out and I don't want to break it." Matt pushed boxes around, hoping it sounded like he was putting away his long-since packed hookah pipe. He had gotten all of his clothes on, and decided to grab Tim's blue-striped scarf off of a box to cover the hickey that Tim had left when they were fucking. "Go in my bathroom. Don't come out unless I say, alright?" he said softly to Tim, who nodded and finished pulling on his jeans.

Once Tim was hidden, Matt unlocked the door and let Alfred in. And Alfred looked like a mess. He looked to be on the verge of tears, and he was shaking. He was hyperventilating too, and Matt knew all too well what would happen if he kept that up. "Okay, Alfred, first we've got to calm you down. You've gotta stop hyperventilating. You're gonna make yourself have a panic attack, or pass out. Okay, Al?" Matt said gently, and Alfred nodded. Matt could hear his breathing slow, and he stopped shaking so much. "Good. Now tell me what happened." Matt said, trying to soothe his brother. He had momentarily forgotten that his boyfriend was hiding in his bathroom, and went into full Mama Matt mode.

"Well, I go to see Mei tonight, right? And we're at her house, in her room. And, she looks up to me and she says, 'Alfred, I think I'm pregnant.' And we think her crazy ass brothers are all gone, but- god. Your Chinese teacher apparently heard her say that all the way across the house from his room, and bursts into her room, screaming 'How could you bring dishonor to us like this aru?!' and a bunch of ching-chong shit in Chinese. And he gets Leon and Cheng and Yong Soo into it and Mei starts crying, we convinced them she wasn't really pregnant but- I don't even like her all that much, Mattie. Please, help me." Alfred had started to hyperventilate again, and Matt put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "Alfred. You have to stay calm, okay? Believe me, you don't want to make yourself have a panic attack. It's going to be alright, you don't even know for sure she's pregnant."

"No, we're… she's sure. Mattie- I don't like her. I really, really don't! What if this messes up my chances at Harvard? What if Dad finds out and he won't pay for me?" Alfred panicked, and Matt tried his best to calm him back down. "Dad won't find out, okay? I won't tell him, and you won't tell him. And- look at me Alfred- Have you considered an abortion? They aren't stigmatized in China like they are here. She'll be open to the idea, I'm sure of it." Matt said, hoping that it was what Alfred wanted to hear. "Y-you mean that?" Alfred asked, still looking on the verge of tears. "Yeah. We talked about it in Chinese Culture once. One child policy, remember?" Matt didn't actually know the Wang family's stance on abortion, but he had to calm his brother down somehow.

"Well the Wang family did _not_ listen to the one child policy! There's like 5 of those chinks in that house! What if they don't listen to the abortion policy either?" Alfred wailed. "First off, watch your language, Alfred. They aren't chinks. Secondly, they're from Hong Kong, so the policy doesn't apply to them. But the culture is the same, and if she's pregnant, I'm sure she can get an abortion. She's 18 anyways, isn't she? It doesn't matter what Yao says." Matt said, trying to talk sense into his brother. However, when Matt brought up Mei's age, Alfred's face fell.

"Alfred F. Kirkland, please tell me Mei is 18." Matt groaned. Alfred's silence told Matt everything he needed to know, and it made him borderline furious. Alfred knew better than to have sex with an underage girl! But it wasn't something Matt would put past his brother. Alfred was a functioning sex addict, and would fuck any girl that gave him the time of day. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened. "I can't believe you, Alfred! How old is she?" Matt's voice was rising, and it made Alfred wince. Matt was never one to get angry or yell. "Would you yell at me if I told you she was 15?"

"Fif-fucking-teen. You fuck a fifteen year old girl, get her pregnant, then you're worried about how it will affect you going to Harvard? That's- Alfred, you could go to _jail!_" Matt was livid. That was the moment he was glad he was gay. There was no way he'd be able to accidentally knock Tim up. Alfred just stared guiltily at the ground, and Matt almost felt sorry for yelling at him. He did look like he regretted his actions, at least a little bit. Even though he probably regretted it for selfish reasons. "Al, look at me." Matt said, and Alfred turned his head towards his brother. "I'll text Leon, okay? I'll see what Yao thinks about abortion. But, you listen to me. If Mei doesn't want to get an abortion, you will not force her into one. You're a grown man, and you fucked up. You should have known something like this would happen with all the fucking around you do. You're going to have to deal with this." Matt put his hand on his brother's shoulder, and Al nodded. "Okay," he said, and left the room without a word.

Once the door was shut, Matt padded over to the bathroom. He opened the door to see Tim leaning awkwardly against his sink counter, trying to pretend like he hadn't just heard that conversation. After a few seconds of silence, Tim spoke. "That was harsh, Matt." He said, trying to lighten the mood. He must have been able to see how pissed Matt still was. "My brother is a dumbass. He needs to be treated harshly." Was Matt's reply, and he pulled Tim out of his bathroom and back onto his bed.

"We were all comfy, too. God damn Alfred and his uncontrollable penis ruined it," Matt complained, letting his forehead fall onto Tim's shoulder. Tim let out a light laugh. "Come on, schatje. We can get comfy again." Tim responded, laying his head against Matt's. "But not the right kind of comfy. Not the good, naked, post-sex comfy. Who knows when we can get that kind of comfy again?" Matt asked dramatically, and Tim just smiled. "We'll be in Seattle soon, and we can have that comfy every night. I'd love to get comfy with you any chance I could get." He responded softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his lover's head. This made Matt pick his head up, and turn to Tim. "Gimme a kiss, you sappy dork." He said, and pressed his lips to Tim's.

It was a good kiss, one of the best the couple had had in a while. Matt liked to kiss while he was angry; a good, open-mouthed kiss was like nature's stress reliever. When Matt's lips met Tim's, any sort of negative emotion just melted away. All Matt felt when he kissed Tim was pure love. No anxiety, or sadness, or anger, just love, and the wonderful taste of pipe smoke and coffee and the feeling of his heart about to leap from his chest (in the good way.) Tim smelled good, like incense and smoke and tulips, and Matt wanted to bottle his smell up and keep it. Not in a creepy way, of course, Matt just really liked the way Tim smelled. He had pulled away to tell him that, when he heard his door click open, and Matt's heart stopped.

"Mattie, can I bum a Soviet? I'll pay you back." Alfred had opened Matt's door, without knocking, of course. And, of course, he had to do it right as he was kissing Tim. Matt jumped off of Tim, and attempted to hide the older man with his body. Matt was sure that he was going into cardiac arrest. "Oh jeez, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were with a girl! I'll leave-" Alfred made eye contact with Tim, stopped talking, and closed his eyes. "That's not a girl, Mattie."

"I- Alfred, I can explain, just listen to me-" Matt tried to stammer out, but Alfred wouldn't have any of it. Not even Matt, the master of lies, could work his way out of this one. Alfred might have been stupid and naïve, but he saw Matt flat out kissing another man_. _What would he say? 'Oh, Tim came over to smoke with me and my face just accidentally fell onto his and our tongues accidentally went into each other's mouth!' Not even Alfred was stupid enough to buy that.

"What, so you can try and convince me you aren't a fucking faggot? I just saw you kissing that- is that your fucking art teacher?" Alfred chided, and Matt stood up, away from Tim. "It's not like that, Alfred! Just calm the fuck down and listen to me!" Matt shouted. "How am I supposed to be calm when my brother likes to put his dick in other dudes, huh? Or are you the kind that likes to take it up the ass?" Alfred wasn't going to hear Matt out. There was a part of Matt that didn't blame him, but Matt was going to be heard on this. "That- How do you know I'm even fucking him? I'm asexual-" Matt decided the best thing to do would be to lie through his teeth. "Oh, that's a new one Matt. Jesus- You said I was going to go to jail for fucking Mei but here you are fucking your _art teacher!_ I knew he was a faggot but I didn't think he would get to you like that, Mattie. I'm fucking out." Alfred spat, turning to leave the room.

Matt should have just let him leave, and maybe he would have calmed down and had an epiphany that being gay wasn't the worst thing in the world. Maybe if he would have just left the house for a while, things would have ended up okay and the ensuing catastrophe could have been avoided. But, no. Matt followed Alfred into his room.

"No! I want you to listen to me, damn it. Like you never fucking do! For once in your life, _listen to your god damn brother!_" Matt yelled, and Alfred turned to face him. He had his phone in his hand, and Matt panicked for a moment. He wasn't going to tell Arthur, was he? Matt shook away the fear and decided he was going to stand up to his brother. "Tim is my boyfriend. And I fucking love him. I'm a consenting adult, and there's not a thing wrong with that." Matt said with slightly-fake confidence. "There are so many things wrong with it." Alfred sneered, looking away from his brother. "Like what? Jesus, Alfred, name one thing!" Matt shouted, and Alfred looked at odds for a moment. Matt knew he didn't have a good answer.

"You're an atheist, Alfred, so it isn't because you think I'm going to hell. I know that you know deep in your heart that there isn't a thing wrong with being gay." Matt said, still stubbornly trying to prove his point to Alfred. After so many years of being ignored, Matt wasn't going to give up that easily once he had finally been heard. "So you're admitting you're a faggot, then?" Alfred asked, bringing the conversation away from what Matt had said. "If that's what you really want to fucking hear, then yes! I'm a faggot, Alfred, but I'm your brother. So will you accept me?" Matt asked, and Alfred didn't answer. "How long have you been one?" Alfred asked back, and Matt sighed.

"I've known for two years now." Matt just wanted his brother to answer his question. "Jesus Christ, Mattie! We've slept in the same bed since then!" Alfred exclaimed, and Matt rolled his eyes. He hated this argument. He was gay, he wasn't into incest, and he definitely wasn't attracted to the mirror image of himself. "Alfred, we're fucking brothers! Just answer my question!" Matt yelled to his brother, not sure if he actually wanted to know the answer or not.

For a while, Alfred was silent. It worried Matt, because he could never tell what Alfred was thinking. After a long, tense silence, Alfred turned to Matt and sighed. "No. I won't accept you. You make me fucking sick. Get out of my room, and out of my house. I'm gonna tell Dad so you won't be able to come back. You're lucky that fucking fag art teacher has already quit or I'd turn him in. I already told you what I'd do if I ever found out you were gay… You aren't my brother anymore. Leave." Alfred sneered, and Matt's confidence crumbled. He found himself unable to move, and he just stared in shock at Alfred. He didn't think Alfred was actually serious about not thinking of Matt as a brother anymore. Those were words he never, ever thought he would hear; Alfred was an asshole, and Alfred cared too much about himself, but Alfred was his_ brother_. Alfred was his brother and he loved Alfred.

Matt didn't realize he was silently crying until Alfred pointed it out. "Just like a little homo like you to cry. What, are you going to have an anxiety attack over me? Get out." Alfred shoved Matt, and he came back to reality. He gave Alfred a final look, and left his room a bit too quickly. If he was a stronger person, he would have argued his brother until he had forced him to accept him, but he wasn't strong. He was Matthew Kirkland, and he was weak. He realized he was still wearing Tim's scarf, and he was happy Alfred didn't point it out. Matt clutched it tightly and walked back to his room, tears streaming down his face. "Tim, let's get out of here." He said to the confused and concerned looking Dutchman sitting on his bed. Matt grabbed a few things from his room; his stash box, his phone charger, and the sketchbook laying gingerly on his nightstand. Tim offered to take them for Matt, but Matt declined, and dragged him out of his room.

As they went downstairs, Matt clearly heard Alfred yelling into the phone about him. Probably to Arthur. Shakily, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to his father. _Alfred got Mei Wang, a 15 year old Chinese immigrant, pregnant._ He knew that he said he wouldn't tell Arthur, but if Alfred was going to take Matt down, Matt was going to bring Alfred with him. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket, not wanting to see any reply, and pulled Tim to his car. He wanted out of the house as fast as possible. If he left, like he should have done in the first place, maybe Alfred would calm down and maybe this would all blow over.

They were in Tim's car, just leaving Brookshire, when Matt's phone buzzed in his pocket. On reflex, he pulled it out, forgetting that the message he was getting was probably something he wouldn't want to see. But he couldn't stop himself, and had a message from his father open before he realized what he had done. It was a group message that went to both him and Alfred. _I'm filling out student loan forms for the fucking lot of you. I'm done. I didn't even want you, and I won't pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for my sons, the statutory rapist and the homosexual, to go to school. Take your bloody accounts that harlot from France left you, that's the last thing you'll ever get from me. –AK._

That was when Matt realized things wouldn't blow over, and he broke down in the passenger seat of Tim's car.


	22. Chapter 22

**(A/N: So, updates will be a bit sporadic for the next few weeks. AP exams are coming up, and NHL Playoffs are on! So, pretty much, I haven't slept in about 3 days, so sorry for any mistakes or content issues in this chapter.)**

Matt felt utterly helpless after receiving the text from Arthur. Despite Tim beside him, Matt was stricken with the unbearable thought that he was utterly alone. It had finally set in that he had lost Alfred, and now Arthur, and it terrified him. It shocked him to his bones, and Matt responded with the only way he knew how to: he let his anxiety take him over.

Matt wasn't even conscious of what he was doing when the panic attack started. He gasped sharply, and tears started to stream down his face before he even knew what was happening. "Matt, are you okay?" Tim asked, speaking up for the first time since they left the house. Matt didn't answer him, he simply looked forward, and gripped the edges of his sketchbook until his knuckles turned white. It felt like something was sitting on his chest, compressing his lungs and forcing out all the oxygen. Matt couldn't breathe, and he was barely aware when Tim swerved dangerously to the shoulder.

But Matt still didn't breathe. There was no way he could. The thing sitting on his chest wouldn't allow any air down his windpipe, no matter how hard Matt gasped for breath. His vision was going blurry and he was getting dizzy. It made Matt panic more. He couldn't breathe. He was alone. His family abandoned him. He couldn't pay for college. He couldn't breathe. _He was alone._

"Matt, fucking breathe!" Tim gripped his shoulder somewhat harshly, and gave him a shake. It shocked Matt into getting a few breaths in, and once he did that, Tim's grip loosened. Matt struggled to gain control of his breathing, and finally managed to calm his hyperventilating down to a manageable level, though the crushing feeling in his chest remained. His heart was beating too fast. But he had at least calmed down enough to focus.

"Oh, god zij dank, Matt, you scared me." Tim breathed a heavy sigh. He sounded immensely worried, and his accent came out strong. How long had Matt been out of it? "I'm alone, Tim, I'm alone and I'm so scared," Matt whispered, and Tim let his hand fall from Matt's shoulder to his hand. "No you aren't, Matt. You have me. You aren't alone." Tim tried to reassure him the best he could, but he doubted he was effective. Matt looked up to him with shining eyes. "No, Tim, I'm _alone._ I'm- I lost my brother today, Tim, and, Dad, he said he never wanted me, and, oh god, I'm so alone-" Matt cut himself off, and felt himself start to hyperventilate again.

"Shit, Matt, I'm gonna get you home, okay?" Tim said, brow furrowed. He pulled onto the road, and starting speeding towards his house. "S-slow down, Tim," Matt said softly, but the Dutchman didn't seem to be listening. A quick look at the speedometer showed Matt that Tim was pushing 60 in a 35. Matt was vaguely scared of Tim wrecking, but at the front of his mind was still fear about his family.

Family wasn't even the right word anymore. They _weren't_ his family anymore. Who did that leave him with? Francine? She was about as much as family as Alfred and Arthur. She didn't disown him, but what could she do from her fancy rehab in France? Matt would, at some point, have to face the absolute truth that he had caused his already dysfunctional family to split even further apart, but at that moment, that thought was too hard for him to stomach. He wished he was able to think of anything else.

The only thing keeping Matt from losing himself again was Tim's hand clutching his tightly. Tim had somehow pried it from his sketchbook, and was holding it between the seats near the gear shift. Matt was somewhat aware that Tim was talking to him, but he couldn't understand a word he was saying. Matt didn't know if Tim was speaking Dutch, or if he was too far gone to even understand what was happening, but what he did know was that they were pulling up to Maple Drive.

"Matt? Can you get out of the car?" Tim asked after he had pulled into his garage. Matt nodded, but Tim got out of his car and went to Matt's door anyways. He opened it for him, and gripped his hand tightly as he helped him out of the car. Matt thought he didn't need to be babied like that, but didn't know how to find his voice to protest. He was still in shock. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but ignored it. It wasn't like the message would have anything that could be considered good in it. Tim, who was in pretty close proximity to Matt, felt it too.

"Are you gonna answer that?" Tim asked, leading Matt through the obstacle course that was his garage. The whole place was basically a wreck since Tim started the moving process. There were boxes everywhere, and supplies he hadn't found time or energy to pack strewn about. Matt shook his head at Tim's question as they finally reached the door that lead to his kitchen. "Well, let me check then. It could be important." Tim suggested as they walked into the house. Matt unlocked his phone and left it on the kitchen counter as he made a bee-line for Tim's couch.

Tim's couch had become a second home to Matt over the last few months. Whenever he had had issues at home, or school, or even in his own mind, Matt found himself curled up on this couch, clutching the pillow that smelled like Tim. He would lay his head in Tim's lap, and Tim would run his hand's through Matt's curly hair until Matt felt better. Matt wanted Tim to be with him then, so he called for him. "Tim?" "Yes, schatje?" Tim answered immediately. "Come play with my hair." Matt didn't mean it to sound so childlike, but he felt like a child then. The whole situation reminded him of times when he was young, and Arthur would be gone (of course), and Alfred was supposed to stay at home with him so he wouldn't be alone, but he somehow always ended up at a friend's house. Matt felt alone, and Matt felt childish.

Tim came into the room wordlessly. He had Matt's phone in his hand. He sat beside his lover, and Matt assumed his normal position of his head on Tim's lap. The younger man felt Tim's long fingers in his hair, and a little bit of the shock started to fade away. Matt felt himself become a bit more hopeful; it was as if Tim was pulling the bad thoughts straight out of his head. Alfred was his _brother._ There was no way he would be able to abandon Matt like that! And Arthur, he was just angry at his sons. And he had to be angrier at Alfred than Matt. At least what Matt was doing wasn't illegal (technically.) Yes, things started to look up for Matt.

"You got quite a few texts while you were in the car. Did you just not feel them, or…?" Tim asked, looking down at Matt. "I was in shock, I guess I didn't hear them. Is it from Alfred, apologizing for what he did already?" Matt said, and Tim didn't reply for a moment. "Well, you certainly sound a lot more chipper than you did a few minutes ago. Everything all right?" Tim asked, sounding a bit concerned. "Oh, come on, don't go all psych minor on me. I'm perfectly fine!" Matt had a small smile on his face. This would be all blown over by graduation. "I am gonna go all psych major on you, Matt. You're exhibiting the 5 stages of grief perfectly. You sound like you're in denial…" Tim spoke cautiously, not wanting to alarm Matt.

Denial? Matt wasn't in denial. He had had spats with Alfred like this before. Arthur had gotten drunk and said he didn't want the twins before. They both always fixed themselves. (Alfred and Matt got their matching BMWs not too long after Arthur had gone on a bad bender and told the two that he wished he had made Francine get an abortion. If Matt played his cards right, he could probably get his father to pay for that trip to Amsterdam he had been talking idly about with Tim for a few weeks once he calmed down.) "What? I'm not in denial, Tim. I know my family, and I know that this little thing won't last long." Matt was back to his normal self.

"Matt, I hate having to be the one to tell you this, but… this isn't going to blow over. Read some of these texts you've gotten." Tim handed Matt's phone to him. Matt doubted anything too bad would be in the messages. Worst case, it's Alfred doing a bit of bitching. Best case, both his family member had already apologized. He opened up his conversation with Alfred first, and nearly laughed before he read them. His family was so easy to predict.

_You told dad? How could you? You promised me you wouldn't! But you promised me you liked chicks, too, so, I should be used to broken fucking promises from you._

_I hope you know, mom and dad probably think you're going to rot in hell. If I were a Christian, I'd feel the same. _

_You're lucky I don't turn your pedophile boyfriend in._

_Dad's getting a uhaul truck to bring our shit to our dorms. Thanks to you, he kicked me out too. He said he didn't want to see us again. It's okay, I don't want to see either of you two again either._

_I hate you._

_Faggot._

Alfred had said he hated Matt. But, this was going to blow over, wasn't it? How could this blow over if Alfred was going to say things like that? Matt shook the thought off and moved to his next conversation, where he had a string of new messages from Arthur.

_I've changed the inheritance accounts from Norma for the two of you. You can access them with your cards at any time. Don't spend your millions on pot or cars, for the love of god. –AK_

_I've already paid for this semester's tuition in full, so you're lucky there. But your student loan papers for the next semester have already been mailed in. –AK_

_And the UHaul will be there this weekend. The movers will take everything, don't worry. You'll be out of the house by graduation, and I don't want you ever going back. Turn in your cards to Brookshire, if you please. –AK_

_And, really, boys? Your art teacher, Matthew? A 15 year old, Alfred? Honestly, I raised you better than this. I can't believe you. –AK_

Matt's blood was beginning to boil. What gave them the right to judge Matt based on his sexuality like that? Who the hell did that, and why did Matt have to be related to them out of 7 billion people in the world that he could have been related to? He was so angry, and wanted to show it. He started by texting his father.

_You know what, Arthur? I can't believe YOU. I honestly can't. I've kept my mouth shut for 18 god damn years now but I'm done with being quiet. You leave Alfred and I alone for our entire lives then you just kick us out like this? Over stuff a loving father should support us over? Oh, right, you aren't a loving father. You never have been. I don't give a fuck about whether you think what I do with Tim is moral or not. I'm in love, and I'm sure that's something you're jealous of. Fuck off, Arthur. Don't you dare show your face at graduation. –MK (I can be pretentious and sign my own name to people who obviously know who the text is coming from too.)_

Tim had stared in concern while Matt typed it out. He was surely reading what was being typed. His frown grew bigger with every word Matt typed. "Matt, I don't think it's a good idea to be talking to your family right now. I probably just pushed you prematurely into the anger stage-" Tim was trying to be rational, but Matt wouldn't have it. "Why are you acting so condescending to me? It's your fucking fault I'm in this situation in the first place!" Matt was speaking loudly and angrily. He sat up, removing his head from Tim's lap. "It isn't my fault, Matt. And it isn't your fault either. It was just a bad coincidence." Tim wasn't getting angry back, and for some reason, that just made Matt angrier. Was he too good to yell at Matt? He was using his psychology bullshit on him, Matt was sure of it.

"Why aren't you mad? Why, don't want to yell at me? Am I too young to be yelled at, is that what you think?" Matt accused of Tim, who stayed stoic. "No, Matt. I don't think you're too young. You should know that, by now, I don't even think of you as a student. I'm not yelling because I don't have anything to be angry about." Tim said, calmly. "So you're saying I'm getting angry for no reason." Matt said, rolling his eyes. How could Tim act like that? "No, I'm saying you just had a very big shock, and you're grieving. The anger you're feeling is natural." Tim said, looking Matt in the eye. "God, Tim, just, fuck off for a little while." Matt huffed, and Tim stood up, which surprised Matt. "I'll give you time to cool off. I'm going to smoke, do you want anything out of my Box?" Matt shook his head in defiance. He had his own Box, which was sitting on the table in front of him. "Then you know where I'll be." Tim took Matt's phone from his hands.

And with that, Tim left the room, and once he was alone, Matt felt ridiculous. Why did he do that? He was angry, incredibly angry, but there wasn't any reason to be mad at Tim. All Tim was trying to do was help Matt, and how did Matt respond? He yelled at him, and he acted like a child. There wasn't a single reason for Matt to be angry with Tim. A thought crossed through Matt's head, that maybe Tim would leave him over Matt's little episode, and that all Matt would have then would be Mathias and Lukas, and Matt made a scared squeak. He really didn't like that idea.

For the first time in a long time, Matt gripped his pillow to his chest, and he cried.


	23. Chapter 23

**(A/N: sorry for the wait- NHL playoffs are really taking their toll on me. I've barely slept any, or written any since they've started! Either way, I hope you enjoy, and blame my sleep deprived self if there's any problems here.)**

At some point during his self-pity-slash-anger fest, Matt fell asleep. When he woke up, the house was dark, and smelled faintly of pot. He groaned and stretched, and got off the couch, pillow still clutched to his chest. He padded into the kitchen, hoping Tim was there. After a bit of sleep, Matt felt a lot less angry. He wanted to apologize and go back to cuddling.

Tim wasn't in the kitchen. However, Matt's phone was on the table, and its light that indicated he had gotten a new message was blinking. Matt grabbed it and unlocked it, and went to his new messages. There was a new message from Arthur. Matt didn't want to read it, because that would probably just make him angry again. But he had opened it before he had even had that thought.

_Don't you hurt him, boy. –AK._ What? That had nothing to do with the rant Matt had sent to his father earlier. He scrolled up and read the conversation over, and found that Tim had texted his father. Though that made him slightly angry, it didn't bother him too much once he saw what Tim had said to Arthur. After Matt's rant, Arthur hadn't replied. But Tim had sent a message about 10 minutes after Matt sent his message, and it said _Mr. Kirkland, this is your son's boyfriend, Tim. I can understand why you would be upset about finding out your son is gay, but, I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak to him anymore, unless you're apologizing for how you've acted. He's torn up over it, and I don't want you hurting him more than he has already been hurt. I hope one day you'll accept his love for me, but, until then, do not contact us anymore. _

Another pang of guilt hit Matt. Tim had stood up for him, even after he yelled at him and blamed him for the situation. Matt felt like an utter piece of shit. Why did he get so angry at Tim, who was just trying to help him? Matt groaned loudly, and looked back to his phone. Tim had told Arthur that Matt loved him. Tim demanded an apology. Tim told Arthur that he didn't want to see Matt hurt. And Matt had acted like an asshole to him. What was wrong with him?

Arthur's message caught Matt's eye. _Don't you hurt him._ What was that supposed to mean? Matt had a hard time believing Arthur told Tim not to hurt Matt. Not after all the times Arthur had hurt Matt. Not after Arthur said he didn't care about him, that he didn't want him. There wasn't a way in the world that Arthur could actually go out of his way to respond to Tim, the "faggot" who had corrupted his son, to tell him he didn't want him hurting Matt. Unless…

Maybe Arthur really did care.

Matt's hands started working before his brain did, and he had started to type a message before he could even think twice about why it would be a bad thing. _Daddy, do you love me?_ Matt was about to hit send, but a voice behind him startled him into dropping his phone. "Please, don't send that message." It was Tim, who was coming down his stairs. "T-Tim, I'm sorry-" Matt stuttered out. He wanted Tim to know he was an adult, and could apologize like an adult when he acted like a child, but Tim cut him off. "You don't have to apologize, Matt. Just don't send that text." Tim's voice was soft, and it soothed Matt's nerves. He didn't even realize he had started getting nervous again.

Tim sat beside Matt at the table. He glanced at Matt's screen, and scowled when he saw the message. "You really shouldn't send that. I won't stop you, but, you might not like the answer he gives you." Tim's voice sounded critical. "Did you talk to him?" Matt asked. Tim looked a bit shocked when Matt asked, but he nodded. "I guess I forgot to delete the text, but, yeah. I texted him, and then he called, and we had a little talk. You slept for a good few hours." Matt didn't care about how long he slept, he only cared about one thing.

"What did he say to you?" Matt was somewhat nervous to hear the answer, but he felt like he needed to. Tim hesitated for a moment. He didn't seem like he wanted to talk about the content of the call, but Matt pressed on. "Tim, please. I… I need to know what he said." Matt placed a hand over Tim's, who sighed slightly. "He told me he didn't want to talk to me. That I had no right to speak to him after I corrupted his son. So, I told him I didn't corrupt you. I told him that we loved each other, and that there was nothing corrupt about that. And he yelled at me a bit after that, and, he said some pretty offensive things about us. I think it shocked him that I just took it. I didn't yell back. I just told him that I loved you, and I wasn't sorry. After that he hung up." Tim finished, and Matt's jaw dropped slightly.

Tim really had defended Matt. Not exactly face to face, but, close enough. "Tim, I… You told him that?" Matt was astounded. Nobody had ever really done that for him. "Why wouldn't I? I was just telling him the truth." Tim smiled slightly, which made Matt smile back and blush slightly. He scooted his chair closer to Tim and rested his head on the crook of Tim's shoulder. Tim wrapped a protective arm around Matt, and Matt felt him pick up his phone from the table. "This text is new, though." Matt couldn't see, but he could hear the smirk in his voice. "I don't think Arthur is indifferent as he lets on, schatje." Tim put down the phone, and used his now free hand to stroke Matt's hair lovingly.

"Do you think he'll forgive me?" Matt asked after a moment of silence. Tim's hand slowed it's stroking, and he held Matt's head even closer to him. "He doesn't have to forgive you for anything. You didn't do anything wrong." Matt could feel Tim's voice rumbling in his throat. "Do you think he'll stop being mad at me?" Matt asked, and Tim hesitated to answer. "I don't know, schatje." Tim said, and pressed a kiss to Matt's head. "Do… do you think he'll ever love me, Tim?" Matt's voice wavered slightly, and he was sure Tim noticed.

"It doesn't matter, schatje, I promise you-" Tim started, but Matt cut him off. "But do you think he'll ever love me?" his voice was barely above a whisper. He was trying to force himself not to cry with Tim so close to him. He had already made himself look childish enough with the petty argument a few hours ago. "I… don't know, schatje. I'm sorry." Tim spoke nearly as soft, and Matt took in a shaky breath. "What about Alfred?" Matt asked, and Tim shook his head. "Matt, I just don't know. I don't want to lie to you and say yes. If I ended up being wrong, it'd hurt you even more. Just… a good family would overlook this. If they're a good family, they'll apologize."

That was all it took to push Matt over the edge. He held back a sob, but tears started to fall silently. He crawled out of his chair and into Tim's lap, and pressed his forehead against his lover's neck. Tim's hand was back to stroking Matt's hair, and he held Matt to his chest tighter than ever. Matt wasn't sure if Tim had realized he was crying yet or not. He hoped he hadn't. The two remained quiet for a few minutes. Matt subtly wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie a few times, and Tim would whisper a few soothing things in Dutch every so often.

"Tim, I'm sorry I yelled at you." Matt whispered, hoping that his voice didn't betray him. "I already told you it's fine. You were just upset and needed to let it out." Tim's voice was calm. Matt wished he could be so calm. "But, I acted like a child." Matt said, a bit louder, and his voice wasn't as strong as he hoped it would be. "And I told you, it's fine. I'm not mad at you." Tim had caught on that Matt was crying. Matt could tell it by the sound of his voice, and the way his hands became softer in his hair. There was no use hiding it now.

"What if they don't ever forgive me, Tim?" Matt asked, his voice finally cracking. He let out a sob and buried his head where Tim's neck met his shoulder, and his tears got Tim's shirt wet. "Shhh, schatje, it'll be alright. Here, take your glasses off, I don't want you to break them on me." Matt nodded against his lover's shoulder and complied with his request. He removed his glasses and handed them to Tim, who placed them next to Matt's phone on the table.

With his glasses gone, Matt was able to cry properly. Between sobs, he managed to choke out a "Sorry," He wasn't sure why he was sorry, and he didn't bother letting Tim respond, anyways. He was back to crying at his shoulder before he had a chance to. He hated acting like this in front of Tim. It made him feel like a child, compared to how level-headed his lover was being.

"Don't be sorry for anything, Matt. What do you have to be sorry for?" Tim asked softly once Matt's sobs had died down. "I'm acting like a kid, and I ruined everything with my family, and I got your shirt wet…" Matt sniffled, and Tim chuckled slightly. "Don't worry about my shirt, and don't worry about acting like a kid. You're handling this pretty well." Tim's voice calmed Matt, and made it easier for him to think. "But what about my family?" Matt thought he sounded a bit pathetic, as he continued to whine about his family. "I'm sorry I keep whining," He voiced his concerns, and Tim just held him closer.

"You aren't whining, schatje, I promise. And who cares about your family? Your dad was never around in the first place and your brother seemed like an asshole too. You still have me, and your Scandinavian friends, and Francine, too." Tim comforted, but Matt let out a sharp gasp when he brought up Francine. He didn't even want to think about her. Had Arthur told her yet? She was 9 hours ahead, so she was probably asleep when the whole thing happened. A quick glance at the clock told Matt it was 2 AM, and after a bit of mental math, he realized it was 11 in France. If Arthur had told anything to Francine, she would be getting it right about now. She might have already known he was gay, but Matt was still nervous about how she'd take Arthur's reaction. She could do anything from consoling Matt, to demanding he move to France with her, to ignoring it completely, and Matt wasn't sure which one would be the worst.

Tim seemed to notice that Matt didn't like him bringing up Francine, so he quickly changed the subject. "Hey, and you have my family, too. My mom, and my sister, and brother. I'm sure they'll love you." Tim said. Matt made a noise of approval, but didn't respond further. He didn't know how he felt about giving up his family for Tim's. From what he had been told, they were good people (besides Antonio, his stepdad,) but Matt didn't want to let go of Arthur, or Francine, or Alfred, no matter how much they had hurt him.

The two stayed quiet for a moment. Matt cherished being held by Tim for such a long time. Normally the only way he'd get Tim to hold him this long was if he was asleep, or high. Otherwise, Tim always liked to be up and about. He painted, he smoked, he watched Dutch sports on his TV, he would do anything but just sit down and hold Matt. Tim was a restless soul, and Matt respected that, but there were times when he just liked to be held.

"Matt, have you ever met Laura?" Tim asked, and it took Matt a minute to remember that Laura was Tim's sister. She had recently moved to Antwerp, Belgium to go to a renowned culinary arts school. Matt shook his head. Tim hummed and stood up, carrying Matt in his arms. "Tim? What are you doing?" Matt asked, and took his head out of Tim's shoulder for the first time since he got into his arms. Tim didn't answer, though. He just picked Matt's glasses up off the table, and started to carry him upstairs.

Tim arrived at his bedroom quickly, and placed Matt on the bed. Matt smiled slightly, remembering the last time that Tim had carried him up the stairs like that. It had been the first time they had had sex, when he had gotten high with Tim back in February. It seemed so long ago, it astounded Matt that it had only been 4 months. Tim pulled a laptop out of one of his packed boxes, and sat on the bed next to Matt.

"You never did tell me what you were doing," Matt commented, and Tim looked at him with a smile. "You're gonna meet my sister." He put Matt's glasses on for him, and turned on the laptop. "But, Tim-" Matt started to argue. Tim had told Matt quite a few times that Laura wanted to meet him, but he had always turned the offer to Skype her down. He was way too nervous meeting new people. "No buts! I'm using my psychology minor on you. It's helpful to a person who is going through the grieving process to be surrounded by people they care about. So you're going to meet Laura, and you're going to like it." Tim said, slightly defiantly, and Matt sighed. Tim had already booted up Skype, and he saw that Laura was online.

Before Matt even had a chance to argue, Tim had video called his sister. "Tim, I'm really not comfortable-" Matt didn't even get his sentence out before Laura had answered. "Tim! Ik ben zo blij dat je belt!" The woman on the screen exclaimed, and Matt stole a look at the screen. He saw that Laura was a blonde woman, who looked a whole lot like Tim. She was quite beautiful, it must have run in the Van Der Heide family. Matt also noticed he wasn't in front of the camera, so she didn't know he was there. He was thankful for that.

"Speak English, Laura, we have a guest with us." Tim smirked, and positioned his laptop so Matt was now visible. Shit. "Oh, uh, hi Laura, I'm Matt." Matt stammered out a greeting, perfectly aware of how pathetic he sounded. Tim wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and laughed. "Sorry, he's a bit shy. But this is my boyfriend Matt." Tim said, and Laura's face lit up. "Oh, Matt, I've heard so much about you!" She sounded genuinely happy to meet him. Matt hid his face in Tim's chest, embarrassed. "Tim, why did you talk to your family about me?" he complained into the fabric of Tim's shirt. He could feel Tim's rumbling laugh against his face. "Because I was so excited when we first started dating, and I couldn't talk to anyone here about it, so whenever I wanted to talk about you, I just told Laura." Tim laughed, and Laura laughed too.

"Oh, Matt, show yourself! I'm going to be your sister-in-law one day, you're going to have to get used to me." Laura's voice was light, and happy, and Matt raised his head a bit. "Sister-in-law?" he asked, looking up to Tim expectantly. He was a bit red, and hesitated a bit before speaking. "We've been together for 4 months, Laura; we aren't talking marriage anytime soon." He fussed, but Laura just smiled. "You told me you were moving to Washington, and I just thought, since they legalized gay marriage there, you were going to-" Tim cut her off. "What kind of man do you make me out to be, sister?" He said sternly, but Matt could tell he was joking. "A man who better be getting married and adopting children and making me an aunt, very soon!" Laura laughed, and Tim scowled. "Honestly, Laura, we haven't even started talking about moving in with each other yet-" Tim tried to divert his sister, but it seemed to just egg her on. "He was living with you, the last time we talked!" Laura exclaimed.

Matt came out of hiding enough just to give a smile to Tim. He wondered if he had actually talked to his sister about all this stuff- living together, marriage, kids- or if Laura had just made it up on her own. He wasn't opposed to any of those ideas, but he agreed with Tim that it was way too early to be thinking about them. "Don't you give me that look, you little shit." Tim smacked Matt on the head playfully, and Matt saw that he was still blushing slightly.

"Oh, come on. You know how excited Mom would be to have grandkids. Since she's disowned Jan and I don't want kids, you're her only hope." Laura smiled, and Tim rolled his eyes. "We can talk about this later, sister." He mumbled. Was he embarrassed? Matt laughed lightly. "Dork," he said softly, which earned him another playful hit. "I'm sure Matt's family would want grandkids just as badly," Laura said, and Matt's eyes went wide. Tim started speaking to her hurriedly in Dutch, but the damage had already been done.

Matt's family didn't want grandkids, they didn't even want _him._

Tim seemed to have explained the basic situation to Laura, who had started hurriedly apologizing to Matt. Matt, however, had withdrawn into his thoughts, and was ignoring everything. "Laura, I'll call you later," Tim said, and closed his laptop. He pulled Matt into his embrace, and started to stroke his hair soothingly. "They don't want grandkids, Tim, they don't even want me." Matt voiced his thoughts to Tim, who held Matt tighter. "Don't worry about them. Just look at what Laura said. You're a part of our family now, Matt, and we might be a bit dysfunctional, but we have a lot of love. You'll get your fill of it, trust me." Tim tried to keep Matt from going into the same mood he had been in earlier.

But that didn't seem to work. No, Matt was slowly slipping back into his stages of grief. "I would stop being gay if it meant my family would just stop this," Matt whispered, not even wanting Tim to hear it. But, he did. "Don't even say that, Matt. You can't stop being gay, you'd just be lying to yourself and everyone else. And then what, you'd just abandon me because your family doesn't like me?" Tim's tone was harsher than he meant it to be, and Matt made a pathetic squeak and held Tim tightly. "No, I wouldn't abandon you, Tim. I love you, don't leave." Matt's voice cracked, betraying how close to tears he was again. Matt thought he was a pathetic child.

"Shh, schatje. I won't leave you, I love you. I'm sorry I sounded so angry. You're just bargaining, it's natural. I just don't want you to think that trying to change yourself like that would make anything better." Tim cooed, and held onto Matt. Matt took in a shaky breath, and Tim could tell he was trying not to cry. "Remember how I told you my step-father threw a bottle of rum at me, and that's how I got my scar?" Tim asked, and Matt nodded against him. "Well, we were having an argument when he hit me. An argument about my… my sexuality. I had just came out that night, and my whole family was ecstatic for me. Antonio, though, he was angry. I don't know why, because he fucked an Austrian dude in college, but… He got pissed at me, and he gave me this same spiel that your family gave you. I had disappointed him, I wasn't his son, blah, blah, blah… So I said, it's okay, you aren't my dad. And it made him even madder, and I was a dumb brat for talking back to him when he was drunk like that, but, I had had enough of his shit. So he threw the bottle at me." Tim finished, and it was quiet. Matt wasn't exactly sure why Tim had told him that story, and was about to question him before he had started to talk again.

"So there you go. I don't know if that helped or not, but, that's my story. I just wanted you to know that you aren't the only one who's gone through their family not accepting them. At least yours didn't involve a trip to the ER." Tim said, and Matt nodded against him. He didn't know what to think just then, he was tired and numb. He slipped his glasses off and pushed them into Tim's hands, and Tim put them on the nightstand for him. He wiggled out of Tim's embrace, and got under the covers. It was 3 AM, he was sad, and Matt just wanted to sleep.


End file.
